Lara & Vivian
by alimison
Summary: A husband and wife are desperately poor and can no longer support their children, 2 boys and 2 girls. The father believes the best possible option is giving away the two girls for adoption, while the mother cannot bear the thought of it. How does this lin
1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
"Oh John," whispered Elsie. "It's unthinkable. I couldn't do it." Her voice shook as she absent-mindedly twisted a piece of his hair around her finger.  
  
"Elsie, I don't see what else there is to be done," John said hoarsely, staring straight up at the biggest hole in the bedroom ceiling. "I work and work all day, you are hectic all the time, and still we can't get food for the children. You know I like the idea of it no more than you do. But . . . things just seem to have come to a brick wall for us, Elsie."  
  
"Surely we don't have to give away our own daughters to solve our problems, John!" Elsie said angrily.  
  
"Shhh," he said cautiously. "The boys will hear us talking."  
  
"They're sound asleep, John. Look at them." Sure enough, Thomas and Richard were fast asleep, curled up in their blankets on the floor.  
  
"Look, Elsie, you know how much I hate it myself. But if we don't do something soon, we're all going to starve, including the girls! Can't you see that? Mr Hopkins is obviously about to turn us out onto the street as it is, and the grocer is refusing to give me any more food on credit - if there were only four of us, rather than six, we'd be out of this mess within several months - I've worked it out! And if we still had the boys, they could do their usual scrounging, and help you with the work, and you wouldn't be tied down looking after the girls all the time!"  
  
"I would rather sell myself on the streets than give up Lara and Vivian," said Elsie quietly.  
  
"I know you would, but unfortunately you can't," said John firmly.  
  
"John, I mean it."  
  
"You don't understand what it's like out there, Elsie. Besides, you are my wife! You can't run off with the courtesans. Who would look after the children?"  
  
"The way you're talking, there won't be any children to look after," said Elsie quietly. She suddenly clutched John to her fiercely. "Oh John!" She started sobbing. "You know I don't want to leave you! But I cannot, I just cannot, lend countenance to the idea of giving away my girls!"  
  
"Shhh, Elsie," said John, stroking her cold back, a stricken look on his face. "Please don't cry!"  
  
"I will do it, John, I will! There isn't another way!"  
  
"Elsie," said John now, more fiercely than before, "if you think you are going to go out on the streets, let me tell you now that there is no way I will allow it. You tell me there is no way you can lend countenance to the idea of giving away Lara and Vivian - now tell me this - do you think I could ever give countenance to the idea of letting you go onto the streets, you, my wife and the mother of my children? At least if we let Lara and Vivian go, they will grow up well cared for, without the shame of being the daughters of a common prostitute and a miner. They will never want for anything! The lawyer Evans has told me of many upper class and middle class families that want children to love."  
  
"No more, John," said Elsie, sniffling. "I see your point, I do, but just give me a few days to think everything over. Please, no more."  
  
He reached over and kissed her forehead. "Of course, love. I understand."  
  
John went to sleep almost immediately, exhausted after his long day at the mine and his visit to the lawyer's. But Elsie lay sleeplessly on her side watching her two small daughters sleep peacefully - Lara, her beautiful, chubby toddler, and Vivian, the baby of the vivid eyes - she watched them the entire night.  
  
*****************  
  
The next morning Elsie scrubbed floors until her back ached, and longer, until it was agony. She got home in the late afternoon, and the two boys were sitting quietly in the cramped, dark little kitchen, waiting, covered in dirt from their day spent scrounging. They didn't stir from the floor when she came in, but looked up, their eyes large and dull-looking. "We're hungry, Mama," said Thomas.  
  
Elsie felt a sob coming up her throat. "Are you?" she said, and sat down. "Did you not find anything today?"  
  
"No," said Richard bleakly. "Can you give us something now?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had to pay Mr Hopkins more rent. There's nothing left. Perhaps your father will bring you something home."  
  
The two boys sighed deeply but uttered no word of complaint. It was becoming less and less unusual for this to happen, and Elsie had to turn and walk into the other room so that they would not see her tears.  
  
*****************  
  
It was midnight when John finally arrived home from work the next night. He found Elsie huddled on the floor of the bedroom, holding baby Vivian.  
  
"You shouldn't have waited up for me, love," he whispered, taking off his coat and hanging it up on the rickety old door.  
  
"It's not a bother, John," she said.  
  
He thought he could detect a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "What's the matter?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," she tried to say breezily.  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"There's a mite of bread left for you in the cupboard for your supper." Elsie put Vivian down in her makeshift crib, arms shaking.  
  
"Elsie, what is it?"  
  
"I told you, nothing!" she turned on him.  
  
"Oh," he heard himself saying. "Sorry."  
  
She turned around and headed for the door, trembling. "By the by, John, there's some money in the hole in the wall."  
  
He grabbed her shoulder. "Show me."  
  
She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Here."  
  
His eyes widened at the number of banknotes she pulled out. "Elsie . . . where did you get them?"  
  
"Oh, you know . . . just found them, that's all." She was definitely nervous now. "You can pay off our debts now, and we won't have to give the girls away."  
  
"You went out on the streets," he whispered disbelievingly. "You did, didn't you?"  
  
Her lower lip quivered, but she said nothing.  
  
For a moment he was quiet, but then the storm broke. Later, he was shocked to remember that in his fury he had hit her, and called her all manner of names, and she had cowered in the corner. Then he had stormed out into the kitchen, and thrown the chairs across the room to create a pleasing crashing noise, taken the banknotes and ripped them up, and finally sat down in the corner and wept.  
  
Elsie, terrified of what she had done, lay curled up in bed wet with tears, watched by her startled sons, who had never seen their father so wild. She woke up in the morning to find John and the two girls gone, and she collapsed on the floor in a heap. The girls were gone. And it was her fault.  
  
*****************  
  
A grim John was back in the afternoon, to her relief. She wrung her hands together as he walked in, and couldn't meet his eyes. "Afternoon, Elsie."  
  
"John - have you taken them away?" Her voice was strangely calm.  
  
"I have," he said, slamming a loaf of bread down on one of the remaining shelves. "Mr Evans was very happy to relieve me of them. He even paid me some money for my trouble, and gave me a ride to the shops in his own carriage."  
  
"Oh John, I'm sorry," she gasped, tears threatening to burst the fragile dams of her eyelids.  
  
For the first time, he looked at her with a touch of compassion in his eyes. "I know. I am too. I should not have hit you."  
  
"Where are they, John?"  
  
His eyes hardened again. "I don't know."  
  
"You don't know?" she cried, appalled.  
  
"You are not going to go and retrieve them, Elsie. They will be better off. I told Evans to place them where he would, and he promised not to tell me where. He even said he would make arrangements that even he would not know, so that there was no way I could find out. A very accommodating man, Evans. The only stipulation I made was that they would be placed in a good, well- off family. He paid me a rather substantial amount of money for the girls, and on the way home I bought this bread. Elsie, you will never go out on the streets again, or I swear it, I will leave you."  
  
"Yes, John," she said, wiping her eyes.  
  
Of course she was relieved that John was no longer in that fearsome rage. She knew it might take him some time to get over his anger, and she was heartily ashamed of herself. Sometimes she felt like curling up into a ball and disappearing when she thought about what she had done. So there was relief.  
  
But it was impossible for the relief to be untempered by the realisation that she would never see her babies again. She was miserable. And emotions were running through her like wildfire - why were her girls not here? Where were they?  
  
*****************  
  
Lara woke up confused again. She was in a big white room, in a large, heavenly bed, and to her it seemed like a dream. She bounced a little on the bed, and then went over to check on her sister Vivian sleeping in a wonderful lacy bassinet. Since Mama was not there, it automatically fell to her to look after Vivian. But she saw that Vivian was fine; sleeping quietly with a little smile on her face.  
  
The door opened. "Good morning, dearie!" A little old woman walked in. "Now, would you like something to eat?"  
  
Lara stared at her, wide-eyed, and didn't say a thing. She only had a few words still, and in any case would not use them on such a stranger. But the delicious smell of the bacon wafted across to her nostrils, and her stomach started to rumble at the scent of something she had only dreamt about recently. She nodded.  
  
"Good girl!" said the lady, seemingly delighted with Lara. "You sit down here, and I'll help you with your food. Oh, before that - can you tell me your name?"  
  
"Lara," she whispered shyly.  
  
"Oh, that's pretty! You must call me Nanny, for I am to be your nurse," said the old woman.  
  
"Where Mama?"  
  
"Your Mama is right through that door," said Nanny, pointing.  
  
Lara clapped her hands and ran as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her through gap in the door. She stopped.  
  
Mama was not there.  
  
Two strangers sat in the other room, and they looked very elegant to Lara's mind, used to the depths of dank, poor, lower London. The one she could see properly smiled when he saw her. "Isn't she a lovely one?" he said.  
  
"Oh I suppose so, my dear, but we wanted boys!" replied a crotchety sounding voice hidden behind the sopha. Lara liked the man better.  
  
"Boys will come, boys will come," replied the man. He bent down to Lara's height. "Hello, dear. What's your name?"  
  
"Lara," Lara lisped again quietly.  
  
"Oh dear, what a name!" said the shrill voice. "No, no, she must be something sensible, like Anne or Louisa or Mary or something."  
  
"And what is your little sister's name?" the man asked, ignoring the woman.  
  
"Thithian," said Lara.  
  
"Thithian?" said the man, confused. "Ahh! Vivian!"  
  
"Another ridiculous name," sighed the woman.  
  
"Lara, I am your father now, and this is your mama," explained the man, leading Lara around the sopha to where a lady was reclining on it.  
  
"Well, she is pretty, at least, isn't she?" said the woman lazily. "But my dear husband, you know youngsters are no good for my nerves! Mrs Bates will have to be a good nurse if we can keep them." 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
"Are you well, Elsie?" asked John, concerned.  
  
She made a half-hearted effort to smile. "As well as can be, John."  
  
He came over and embraced her. "I know it's hard, love. I miss them every second of the day. But I try to think of the way they will be looked after from now on, and it makes it all a little better."  
  
"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's just that I don't know how they will be looked after from now on, John. I don't know where they are, or who they are with, or whether those people are responsible or not, or anything. . . It's just so hard! They've been gone six weeks now, and every moment of the day I keep on imagining little Lara, all confused, wondering why we have abandoned her, and darling Vivian, growing up not knowing that we ever existed . . ."  
  
He wiped away the little tear escaping from her eye. "I love you, Elsie. And there's food on the table now, and shelter for the boys. Surely that's better than nothing?"  
  
"Yes, of course," she smiled.  
  
There was a knock at the door. "You sit down. You've had a hard day. I'll go and answer the door," she said. She hurried down the narrow stairs. "Yes?" she said, opening the door, before she realised who was standing there. A gentleman a few years older than John, complete with coat, breeches, Hessians, a top hat, exquisitely tied cravat . . . And outside, the most luscious carriage, drawn by four glossy black horses.  
  
"I apologise to disturb you, ma'am," he said with a winning smile. "I came to enquire - is this the home of Mr John Fowler?"  
  
She curtsied hurriedly. "Yes, sir. I am Mrs Fowler."  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am. May I speak with your husband?"  
  
"Of course," she said, flustered by the politeness she was unaccustomed to from the gentry. "Please come upstairs. I'm sorry, the stairs are quite cramped."  
  
"Not at all," he said politely, although it was perfectly obvious they were.  
  
When Elsie opened the door, John had his back to her, and said, "Elsie, I do think we must put in a few more shelves here."  
  
"John?" she said. "We have a visitor."  
  
He turned round, and his mouth opened a little when he saw who had come. "Oh, pardon me, sir!"  
  
"Of course," the guest said with a smile. "I am so sorry to intrude on you. I am George Darcy. I assume you are Mr Fowler?"  
  
"Yes, sir," said John.  
  
"There is a matter I must speak to you of," said Mr Darcy. "Could I claim some of your time?"  
  
"Of course," said John, gulping. He, like Elsie, was also unaccustomed to politeness from the gentry. He drew out a chair for Mr Darcy. "Will you sit down?"  
  
"Thank you. Oh, Mrs Fowler, you should probably be included in this as well," he called after Elsie as she made to leave the room.  
  
She turned around and sat down cautiously.  
  
Mr Darcy's face took on a serious look. "Mr Fowler, I don't know quite how to start this . . . perhaps, well - would you oblige me by telling me your history?"  
  
"My history?" said John, confused.  
  
"Where you come from, your parents, all that type of information. I am sorry to be so impertinent, but it is very important."  
  
"Not at all," said John. "That is, it is not impertinence at all, sir. To tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure where I come from. You see, I am a foundling. A fine old gentleman by the name of Winston found me on the doorstep of his orphanage when I was about a year old, and brought me up ever since. When he died, I had to find a job, and so I became a miner."  
  
"I see," said Mr Darcy, his brow furrowed. "Can you tell me, did you have any information as to where you may have come from with you when you were found?"  
  
"Yes, I did, actually," said John. "All my clothes were embroidered with the initials J. A. F, and so those were the initials Mr Winston gave me - John Alfred Fowler."  
  
"Do you still have those clothes?" asked Mr Darcy.  
  
John looked surprised. "Yes, I do. Would you like to see them?"  
  
"Yes, please." And as John got up to look for them, "I do apologise again for my impertinence. You will see soon that this information is very important for me."  
  
"Please, sir, I understand, it's not a bother," said John, and Elsie nodded her agreement. He was back in a few moments. "Here you are, sir. I have kept them all my life."  
  
"The very ones," murmured Mr Darcy. He looked up. "May I ask, Mr Fowler, when did this worthy Mr Winston find you?"  
  
"On the 27th day of August, 1766," said John promptly.  
  
"Oh, August the next year, then," murmured Mr Darcy to himself again. "Mr Fowler, do you know anything else about where you came from?"  
  
John thought for a moment. "Well, Mr Winston always thought it was not honest men who brought me to the orphanage. I'm not exactly sure why, but I gather he caught a glimpse of some men watching when he found me, and recognised one later who was pictured in the newspaper as being condemned to hanging for theft and murder on the highway."  
  
Mr Darcy drew in his breath. "Really?! Well, Mr Fowler," he was smiling broadly now, "I will tell you why I have been asking all these tiresome questions. No doubt you have been wishing me gone all this time, but I hope that may change."  
  
"Oh no," insisted John, "really, it isn't a problem at all." Mr Darcy was so genteel and polite that it would be a pleasure to have him visit anytime, thought Elsie.  
  
"Again, I am not entirely sure how to tell you this, but I am the cousin - much younger, of course - of the late Earl and Countess of Matlock. About thirty or so years ago, the Earl and his wife were travelling to Bath to see the Countess' mother, with their small and only son, a baby at the time. On the way, they stopped at an inn to get quick refreshments, and as their son was fast asleep, they left him in the carriage with a footman outside to call them if he woke. Unfortunately, as they entered the inn, a group of highwaymen attacked the men guarding the carriage, and drove off with it, and with the small boy still in the carriage."  
  
Elsie looked at John. His mouth was open and his eyes wide.  
  
"My cousins obviously scoured the country for their son, but the bandits had hidden him well. Although they did not ask for a ransom, they evidently did not want to give him up in case it jeopardised their position. Eventually my cousin had to call the search off and accept that his son was lost forever." Mr Darcy paused and looked at John straight in the eyes. "This must be a huge shock, John, but I have reason to believe you are my second-cousin, John Alexander Fitzwilliam, and as my cousins have recently died, the Earl of Matlock."  
  
There was a very long silence. Elsie thought she could hear John's heart beating, and her own wasn't much quieter. Finally John spoke up in a voice significantly different from his own. "I think you must be mistaken, sir. I am no earl."  
  
"On the contrary," said Mr Darcy gently. "The garments you just showed me are identical to those I have been shown by my cousin, Lady Matlock - your mother - on numerous occasions as garments from a set belonging to her son. You have the same initials as John Fitzwilliam, and as you seem to have been dropped at the orphanage by highwaymen, it seems sensible to believe that you were abducted by highwaymen also." He paused, studying John and Elsie's white faces. "I understand this must be very hard to come to terms with. You must know that it is completely up to you whether or not you want to accept the title of Earl of Matlock or not. But . . ." For a moment he lost his calm exterior. "I must beg you to understand that you are the one for whom my entire family has been searching for a very long time. You must not make yourself uneasy by imagining your relations reluctant to accept you or anything of the sort. I myself have been searching for you for the past six months and you have no idea how happy it makes me to finally find my cousin."  
  
John stirred from his white-faced reverie. "So . . . I am your cousin?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I am an earl?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
John breathed in deeply. "I am sorry. I am finding it quite difficult to make myself understand."  
  
"I perfectly understand," said Mr Darcy earnestly. "I pity your situation, and if you wish, I will go away now and only come back when you have reconciled yourself to your position a little more."  
  
"No, no," said John absently. He looked across the table at Mr Darcy. "Did you say my parents are dead?"  
  
"Yes," said Mr Darcy, and a look of sorrow crossed his face. "I am very sorry indeed that you could not have met them. They died within a month of each other about two years ago."  
  
"I see," said John sadly.  
  
The door burst open. "Mama, Papa, there is the most splendid carriage outside, with the glossiest horses you'll ever see!" shouted Richard, and broke off suddenly when Thomas saw the man sitting at the kitchen table with his parents, and kicked his little brother. "Oh! Sorry!"  
  
Mr Darcy smiled. "They are rather splendid horses, are they not?" He turned to John and Elsie. "I presume these are your sons?"  
  
"Yes," said Elsie quickly. "Come here, boys! This is Mr Darcy. These are our sons Thomas and Richard."  
  
"Good day, Master Thomas, good day, Master Richard," said Mr Darcy with a smile, shaking their hands. "I have a son about your age, called Fitzwilliam."  
  
"Fitzwilliam!" snorted Richard, overcome with his feelings at such a ridiculous sounding name.  
  
"Richard!" gasped Elsie, embarrassed and dismayed, while Thomas kicked his little brother again for the want of delicacy he displayed.  
  
"Oh, I agree," said Mr Darcy, enjoying himself. "It was all on my wife's insistence. But we just call him William normally. Do you have any other children?" he asked Elsie.  
  
Her stomach chilled at the recollection, and words deserted her. John jumped in to rescue her. "We had two daughters, sir, Lara and Vivian, but - we are very poor, sir, and . . . in desperation, we had to give them away for adoption."  
  
"Oh, I am so sorry," said Mr Darcy with true sympathy. They were quiet for a few moments, before he got up. "I must take my leave of you now, Mr and Mrs Fowler - or should I say Lord and Lady Matlock?" Elsie blushed. He put a card down on the table. "I will leave you to digest all this news," he said, "but will you come and visit me tomorrow evening for dinner? We can talk there in more detail. My house is in Brook Street. Oh, and do bring your sons. My son will enjoy meeting them."  
  
"Of course, sir," said John, dazed, while Elsie curtsied mechanically.  
  
And he was gone. John sat down with a thump on his chair, looking for all the world as if he had just swallowed something very large, and Elsie turned away to her mop and started washing the floor as if her life depended on it.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Do you know what this means, Elsie?" said John in an amazed voice after a while. "We'll never go hungry again!"  
  
Elsie burst into tears. "Oh John!"  
  
"What ever is the matter?!" he asked, completely confused.  
  
She threw herself into his offered embrace. "Please John, you know you can divorce me!"  
  
He was amazed. "What on earth are you talking about?"  
  
"John, I know I am nowhere near grand enough to be a countess. Don't think I have to stand in your way!"  
  
"Now listen to me," John said fiercely, pushing her chin up to make her look at him. "There is no way I will ever divorce you, and if anyone suggests I should if I want to be an earl, he can be damned! I don't need to be an earl, Elsie, and I only need you." He grinned. "Mind you, I think I may very well choose to be an earl, but if I do, it's only if you are fully accepted as my wife." He smiled and kissed her. "Somehow I don't think Mr Darcy will have any problem whatsoever with my choice of a bride."  
  
"Oh, but Elsie is such a terrible name for a countess!" sobbed Elsie.  
  
"Well then, we'll change your name!" said John. "Come on now, don't cry, love! What would you like your name to be?"  
  
Elsie stopped sobbing and smiled dreamily. "I've always wanted to be Cecilia . . ."  
  
"And Cecilia you shall be!" said John firmly.  
  
Elsie stopped smiling. "Oh John, the girls . . ."  
  
"Yes, it has crossed my mind, too, Elsie - I mean, Cecilia," he said grimly.  
  
"We didn't need to give them up!"  
  
"I know."  
  
Somehow Elsie managed not to burst into tears, but her heart was being ripped apart somewhere inside her. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
TWENTY YEARS LATER  
  
"Your father is very ill now," the physician told Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. "You will need to prepare yourselves - and your sisters."  
  
Elizabeth felt her voice was coming from somewhere else when she said, "I see." She took Jane's hand and squeezed it hard to try and somehow block the empty feeling that was already seeping into her.  
  
"He would like to speak with you all," said Dr Fairlane. "Perhaps Miss Mary, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia first? And then you two can go in to see him."  
  
Mary, Lydia and Kitty were fetched, and sent in to see their father, not really understanding how serious things were. Elizabeth sat with Jane's hand clutched in her own, willing Mary and Kitty to hurry, wanting to keep all the time Father had left to herself. Neither Jane nor Elizabeth spoke, but the clock ticked loudly and pulses rushed less loudly and finally the door scraped open, and her three younger sisters, whey-faced, stumbled out.  
  
Elizabeth walked in quickly, followed by Jane. "Father," she whispered, and knelt down by his bed, as Jane followed suit. He looked so old and frail, and what was it? Half a week since he had been fit and healthy, attending their mother's funeral - in fact, he was only going to outlive her by several days. His forehead was damp with sweat, and he only just managed to reach for his two eldest daughters' hands.  
  
"Jane. . . Elizabeth. . ." he murmured, and attempted a weak smile.  
  
Elizabeth felt the tears spill out of her eyes. This could not be happening yet. This could not be happening, she repeated to herself over and over again, hoping she was about to wake from a particularly bad nightmare. First her mother, and then her father? It was too much to bear.  
  
"I think you know as well as I do that this is to be my final hour," he whispered with a wry smile. "One is always supposed to say amazingly profound things on one's deathbed, but I don't think I quite have the knack for it yet."  
  
"Father, please don't trouble yourself," whispered Jane faintly, gripping the side of the bed like she was hanging off a cliff.  
  
"No, Jane, you know I never trouble myself, and I think the one place I should at least pretend to trouble myself is on my deathbed. Elizabeth. . . Jane. . . You know I have always loved you two, don't you?"  
  
They nodded tearfully.  
  
"As if . . . I think I should tell you something . . . but I fear it . . ."  
  
Elizabeth leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Say whatever you want, Father."  
  
He sighed, and moved slightly on his pillows. All was silent for a few moments. Mr Bennet then opened his mouth to speak again. "Girls, just remember this - I love you, and remember these names: Lara and Vivian."  
  
"Lara and Vivian?" Elizabeth said, confused. Jane twitched slightly beside her. For a moment she thought her father had lost his senses, but looking into his face again, she knew he had not.  
  
"Yes," he said, and suddenly a spasm of pain crossed his body, and he winced. Jane ran for the physician, who hurried in and busied himself while the two girls looked on. Finally Mr Bennet sighed, and laid his head back on the pillow again. "Oh, it's difficult, trying to be wise. . .on your deathbed of all places. . ."  
  
"Father?" said Elizabeth, but he didn't reply, and when she realised what had happened, she turned away, not wanting to see him, and turned to Jane, squeezing tight her sister and shut her eyes.  
  
*****************  
  
"What on earth did he mean, Jane?" Elizabeth said as they stood at the graveside a few days later, after the funeral had been borne.  
  
"By what?"  
  
"Lara and Vivian," she said.  
  
"I don't altogether know," said Jane slowly, "but Lizzy - in some strange way, the names seem familiar! Lara. . . Thithian. . ."  
  
"Thithian?!" Elizabeth almost laughed.  
  
Jane shook her head. "I don't know why I said that."  
  
The two girls' aunt came hurrying up. "Jane, Lizzy," she said, holding her shawl tight around her. "It is time for the reading of the will. You will come, won't you?"  
  
"Yes," said Jane glumly.  
  
"If we must," said Lizzy.  
  
Mrs Gardiner sighed. "You poor things. Now, I want you to know, before the will is read, you and your sisters will always be welcome at Gracechurch Street. You know that, don't you?"  
  
"Thank you, aunt," said Jane, "but it is altogether too great a thing to ask of you."  
  
"Don't be silly," said Mrs Gardiner. "You come inside now. It's cold."  
  
They joined the rest of the family, seated inside the Longbourn parlour waiting for the two eldest Bennet girls. Lizzy paused at the door. Everything seemed so dismal. All the people in the room wore black, and all had sorrowful expressions on their faces. Kitty seemed to have grasped what it meant to be an orphan now, and was slightly trembling as she looked up at the lawyer standing in front of them, and Lydia's eyes were wide and anxious. The only non-miserable person there was Mr Collins, thought Lizzy angrily, coming to stake out his claim in the estate, with a toadish air of satisfaction.  
  
"Oh, here you are," said Mr Evans, the lawyer. "Shall we commence the reading of the last will and testament of Mr Bennet?" Nods from all around. Mr Evans cleared his throat. "I, James Humphrey Bennet, do hereby bequeath my various possessions and finances to the following persons: to William Algernon Collins, in accordance with the rules of entail, the estate of Longbourn, who will be bound by the rules of entail towards his own offspring. To my five daughters the sum of five thousand pounds, which will be distributed in the following manner - to Jane Arabella Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Elizabeth Frances Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Mary Sophia Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Catherine Emma Bennet, one thousand pounds. And to Lydia Anne Bennet, one thousand pounds. Most of the household furniture, farm equipment and animals is bequeathed to William Algernon Collins, except for the pianoforte, left jointly to Elizabeth Frances Bennet and Mary Sophia Bennet, and the mare Nelly, left to Jane Arabella Bennet. Thus ends the last will and testament of James Humphrey Bennet, witnessed by Charles Walter Evans and Edward Richard Gardiner."  
  
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Jane while Mr Collins heaved a great sigh of accomplishment, and stood up, looking around the parlour with a decided air of ownership. Poor Charlotte was obviously embarrassed, and was finding it hard to meet her friend's eyes. Elizabeth hurried over to her. "Oh Lizzy," Charlotte said, "I feel so ashamed having to be the one who has to turn you out of your home."  
  
"Don't think twice about it, Charlotte," Elizabeth ordered her. "You know it had nothing to do with you. I own, I will be sad to leave, but I am going to London for the time being, as you know, and that is always exciting."  
  
"Not so much as usual, I imagine?" said Charlotte cautiously. Lizzy nodded. "Lizzy, you know that you are always, always welcome to come and stay with me."  
  
Elizabeth hesitated before speaking. "I think," she said carefully, "that it may take some time before I will be able to, Charlotte." Charlotte nodded, understanding. "But if I find myself expelled from Gracechurch Street in disgrace, I will know who to turn to!"  
  
Charlotte laughed. "I hope so."  
  
Elizabeth returned to Jane, clutching her hand. These days, Jane was the only one she felt she could really talk to, openly. The two eldest had always been closer to each other than to the younger ones, and Lizzy felt the two youngest, especially, did not understand that their futures were now in jeopardy. Yes, they had received a little money from their mother's own small fortune, and the thousand pounds from their father, but unless they married soon, there could be no hope of ever living in the same style as before. Lizzy worried too about the two youngest - of course there was no need to worry about Mary scrimping and saving - but Lydia was extravagant and thoughtless, and Kitty easily led, and once they reached their majorities, their was no telling how quickly the money could disappear. And so she confided in Jane.  
  
"Lizzy?" Jane was saying now. "Our aunt is calling us. I think she wants us to leave now."  
  
"Oh," said Elizabeth, awakened from her reverie. "I will just go and fetch my reticule." She ran up the stairs. Longbourn. The home she was born in and had always known. And now she was to leave it. She snatched up her reticule off the bed that was once hers, and ran downstairs, not wanting to prolong the agony of leaving.  
  
*****************  
  
"Here we are!" said Mr Gardiner, leaning slightly out of the window. "Gracechurch Street again." Elizabeth and Jane looked up at their new home with slightly dismal expressions on their faces. Their uncle laughed. "It's not quite Longbourn, I agree, but comfortable enough."  
  
They schooled their expressions back to normal again, and assured their uncle that they were perfectly happy - although Lydia was not so polite - even though already they missed the casual elegance of Longbourn and the smell of fresh air. Elizabeth, for one, was perfectly aware what a burden five more girls would be on a family of six, and of a hopeful seven. She and Jane were to share a room, and the three youngest another, but their cousins were to be moved into each other's rooms as well to make room for the Bennet girls. The Gardiner family, including the children, were such a generous, happy family that it could not make them at all upset, but still Elizabeth felt like a deadweight on them. And then there was the cost of caring for them and feeding them. At least they could help a little there, but she knew the Gardiner's would not accept much.  
  
Before, she had not realised what it was going to be like when this day finally came. She felt embarrassed, irksome, and humiliated.  
  
"Oh, Lizzy," whispered Jane as they unpacked their valises later, "I feel so terrible to be here!"  
  
"I know," said Elizabeth gloomily. "Our aunt and uncle are so kind about it too, but even they must see that five girls our ages, with no other able connections, are going to be a tiresome burden."  
  
"I just wish we were back at Longbourn," said Jane softly. "I wish Father was still here. I wish we had a brother." She wiped her cheek and Elizabeth was suspicious. "I wish I was married; then, at least, I could help you all."  
  
Elizabeth's heart broke for the hundredth time that fortnight. Since Mr Bingley had gone away, and it had been certain he was not coming back, Jane had been so doleful and quiet. Her anger rose again at Mr Darcy for keeping them apart, and then just as quickly it was subdued, thinking about her unjust accusations to him. She almost blushed as she remembered her rudeness when he had proposed to her in Kent, only a few months ago. "Jane . . ." she said, "what has happened, has happened, and there's really nothing we can do about it now."  
  
Jane sat down on the side of the bed. "But Lizzy, don't you see? Soon we'll be accepting offers from any half-respectable man, the way we're feeling now! It can only get worse. And I just wish . . . if only my half- respectable man could be . . . oh, it does nobody any good to think about it, and I shall keep him out of my mind."  
  
Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say, for once. She was wondering how long it would take her to desperately accept any proposal that came along. Although she shuddered at the very thought, she knew that Jane was right in her rare moment of pessimism when she said it could only get worse. And the way she was feeling now . . . how long could it take for desperation, and would she give in to it? 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Their aunt had insisted on taking Jane and Elizabeth to the dances at the London Assembly Rooms. Her argument made sense – they were well over the respectable mourning period now, and they had not been anywhere to speak of for an age, it would be good for them, and she wanted to introduce them to some people of substance – who were not the fishmonger's son, besotted with Jane, or the local carpenter, fascinated by Elizabeth. At least she had decided not to take Lydia and Kitty, who protested vigorously, but were still denied the treat.  
  
Reluctantly Jane and Elizabeth put on their fine dresses once again and did their hair. It would be strange to enter into society again. Jane hardly thought of it, bless her, but Elizabeth was deeply mortified at the dresses they were obliged to wear; at the very least, two years out of date by town standards. Jane did not speak of it, but she had an excited air about her that Elizabeth could read – Jane knew about the possibility of meeting Mr Bingley at the dance. However, all that was in Elizabeth's mind was perhaps seeing Miss Bingley, and watching her take in the lowering of the Bennet sisters, and silently mocking their apparel, and secretly rejoicing in everything about their situation. And then there was the possibility of seeing Mr Darcy again. She hoped with all her heart that he would not be there – it would be much too much to bear.  
  
They hung back slightly when stepping out of the carriage that evening, but Mrs Gardiner pulled them on. "I know you are nervous, girls, but I am sure you will enjoy yourselves. Just try to relax. Agreed?"  
  
They nodded, and determined not to let her down, marched up the steps confidently.  
  
The feeling didn't last too long as they entered the sumptuous rooms, took off their wraps, and heard a girl nearby whisper, "Would you look at those country girls? Why, those dresses must have been made last century!"  
  
However, another voice shushed her. "Quiet, Maria, you stupid girl! Why should you care? At least they don't have ugly great freckles like you!" They turned to see who had taken their side, and were just in time to see a mischievous smile, chestnut hair, and dimples before the girl rushed off in a whirl of blue satin, leaving the unfortunately spotted girl to rage.  
  
Elizabeth nearly laughed out loud then, but she had to stifle rude retorts many times as she continuously picked out strains of conversation about herself – "who are they?" "they look so countrified!" "what on earth do they think they're doing here?" "I somehow doubt they'll dance tonight!" – while Jane smiled placidly, completely unaware of what was going on.  
  
Elizabeth had finally had enough of being whispered about by malicious tongues, and of sitting on the side of the dance floor and doing nothing, and got up with the excuse of finding a drink. Where was that chestnut- haired girl? It was when she rounded the corner into the next room that she walked straight into Mr Darcy.  
  
"Miss Bennet!" he said in as close to a gasp as such a man can get, a deep blush slowly covering his face.  
  
Oh no, oh no, oh no! Why did he have to be there?! Elizabeth couldn't help but go red as all her memories from Kent flooded back in on her. "Mr Darcy," she said uncertainly, and curtsied, keeping her eyes off his face.  
  
He seemed to remember his manners, and bowed. "Forgive me, but why are you here in London?" he said in a much warmer tone of voice.  
  
She looked up at him, confused. Why did he sound so friendly? Wouldn't he want to flee, like anyone sensible would? "My sisters and I live here now."  
  
He was puzzled. "Again I am sorry, but why?"  
  
She tried to smile. "Our father and mother died several months ago. We are now living with our aunt and uncle – in Gracechurch Street."  
  
He looked visibly taken aback. "Good God, I never heard anything about it! I am so sorry, Miss Bennet!"  
  
She smiled tentatively.  
  
He looked completely shocked. "You will not be wishing to talk about it, I am sure. How are your sisters?"  
  
Since when was he so sensitive? thought Elizabeth. "They are well, thank you, sir. My sister Jane accompanies me here tonight, with my aunt."  
  
He looked a little conscious as she mentioned Jane. "I have not met your aunt, I think. Will you introduce me to her?"  
  
Now she was completely confused. He, deigning to be introduced to her lowly Gracechurch-Street-dwelling aunt? "Of course. She is through here."  
  
He followed her through the room, and although she was on tenterhooks and as embarrassed as she could possibly be at seeing him again, there was no way any girl could not gloat over the way all the young women who had previously scorned her were now staring in amazement as the elegant, handsome and rich Mr Darcy strolled through the crowd with that countrified girl. "Of course," said one, "she is very pretty, despite those clothes."  
  
Jane was surprised to see Mr Darcy, although she was very calm as she stood and curtsied and said "Good evening, Mr Darcy." Elizabeth then introduced him to her aunt, who she was pleased to note was proof of the gentility of some of her relations. He was perfectly amiable towards Mrs Gardiner, and she was obviously intelligent and relaxed, and the two chatted for some time before Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and Jane and said those magic words.  
  
"I know you have not seen my friend Bingley for some time. He would be very angry with me if I did not take you to see him tonight. Will you come now?"  
  
It was the closest to joy Jane had come in the last six months, and Elizabeth could not help but grin when she saw the quiet sparkle in Jane's eyes. She noticed Mr Darcy looking closely at Jane to wager her response, and was pleased to see a slightly abashed look in his eyes as he saw for the first time the subtlety of Jane's joy. Jane seemed incapable of speech, and so Elizabeth answered. "Yes, we should like very much to see Mr Bingley again." She paused, and a thought struck her. "Are his sisters here?" she asked apprehensively.  
  
"No," Mr Darcy said, with a very slight smile, and a look in his eyes that unmistakeably said, 'And thank heaven, too!' "Miss Bingley and the Hursts are spending some time at the Hurst estate in Oxfordshire."  
  
"Oh, what a pity, it would have been lovely to see them again," said Jane genuinely, quite forgetting how cruel Miss Bingley had been to her the last time Jane had visited London.  
  
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling at her aunt, who had heard a lot from Elizabeth about the conceit of Mr Bingley's sisters.  
  
Mr Darcy took her arm and Jane's and led them off to the other side of the room, and through a stately arched doorway. They saw Mr Bingley before he saw them. Elizabeth heard Jane utter a little gasp as they beheld him, chatting animatedly to a friend they had never seen before, and then turning around to greet his eldest friend. They watched his friendly smile change to an open-mouthed beam of surprise. He stood up, and made his way to them, wide-eyed. "Miss Bennet!" Then he remembered his manners after a pause spent gazing rapturously at Jane. "Miss Elizabeth! What a delightful surprise!"  
  
"I found them in the other room, Bingley," said Mr Darcy. "And I knew you would want to see them."  
  
"Of course I would," said Mr Bingley with a quick smile at Elizabeth before transferring his broad grin back to Jane. "How do you come to be in London?"  
  
Jane and Elizabeth both looked at each other quickly before lowering their eyes. Doubtless they were going to have to make this explanation many times, and already had, but it was so difficult. To Elizabeth's amazement, Mr Darcy rescued them. "They have been living here for some time now, Charles. Their parents sadly died several months ago."  
  
If Mr Darcy had been shocked, Mr Bingley surpassed him. He could not speak for several moments. "Oh, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I – I do not know what to say! What a terrible shock!" he cried in evident grief, and sat down. "You know, when I think of Hertfordshire, I think of your family, and – it's just too much to take!"  
  
Elizabeth too found it all very hard to take – for the seemingly thousandth time. She knew he was sincere and she was touched by his feelings, but it seemed like every part of her life had to be darkened by the deaths now. She couldn't escape them. Everywhere she went, it would come out, and she would be plunged into misery again. She tried to sniff quietly, and felt tears springing to her eyes, and looked away quickly. Jane was answering him and thanking him for his sentiments, so at least she did not need to say anything.  
  
But she felt a hand touching her shoulder. "Miss Bennet?" And the same hand passed her his handkerchief, soft and elegant, with the initials F. J. D. sewn on in curling letters.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, holding Mr Darcy's handkerchief to her eyes momentarily.  
  
"Not at all," he said politely, and turned his face away to give her some space to recover.  
  
Again she was touched by his sensitivity.  
  
After a while, she looked up, noticed the crowd had parted slightly, and saw a woman, sitting across the room from them, staring at her with a stricken look on her face. She felt uncomfortable under that gaze, and when it did not cease after several moments of trying to ignore it, she whispered to Mr Darcy, (Jane and Bingley had gone off to dance), "Who is that woman, the one staring at me?"  
  
Darcy looked across. For a moment he stood still. "That is my aunt, Lady Matlock. She is the mother of Colonel Fitzwilliam." He paused. "Will you let me introduce you to her?"  
  
She was apprehensive of it, but Elizabeth Bennet was not one to shrink from challenges. "I would be honoured."  
  
They stood in front of the countess after weaving their way through the crowd of people. "Aunt, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, this is my aunt, the countess of Matlock."  
  
Elizabeth curtsied low, hoping she was not embarrassing herself. "Lady Matlock." She stole a quick glance up at the woman. Lady Matlock was very handsome and slim for an older woman. She wore a magnificent gown of the latest fashion, and had immaculate brown hair which was just starting to yield to grey. She looked every bit the commander, but if Elizabeth was not mistaken, she had a touch of vulnerability in her eyes.  
  
"Miss Bennet," said the countess. "Forgive me for staring before – you must have noticed – but you remind me very much of someone – and so does your sister, I think it must be, who has just gone with Mr Bingley?"  
  
Elizabeth was surprised. "Oh no, my sister Jane and I don't look very much alike at all," she began to say.  
  
"No, no," said Lady Matlock with a smile. "I mean you remind me of two separate people. I just cannot think who."  
  
Mr Darcy was eager to help. "Could it be Lady Monroe, aunt? She has a nose very similar to Miss Elizabeth."  
  
"No, not Lady Monroe," said Lady Matlock, her eyes still fixed on Elizabeth. "It is the eyes."  
  
"Oh well," said Darcy seriously, "I cannot help you there. I have never seen the like of Miss Bennet's eyes-"He broke off suddenly, almost blushing, if that were possible.  
  
The countess was amused. "And your sister, Miss Jane Bennet – she has a charm to her that I am sure I have seen somewhere before – meaning no offence to your sister, of course, for that is a very unique charm. I don't think I have met you before, have I, dear?" she added somewhat anxiously.  
  
"No," smiled Elizabeth.  
  
"No, I would have remembered you if I had. Such beautiful eyes!" The woman narrowed her eyes again, and then sighed. "It is right on the tip of my brain. I cannot think of it now."  
  
Mr Darcy spoke up. "She looks like Rosalind a little, aunt."  
  
The countess' head snapped up. "Why, yes," she said slowly. "So she does. But that is not precisely who she makes me think of."  
  
"Lady Rosalind Fitzwilliam is my cousin," explained Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, "Lady Matlock's youngest child." 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
All in all it was a beautiful evening, to Mrs Gardiner's joy. No, the start had not gone well, but Jane was radiant now, and Mr Bingley had promised to call, and of course Elizabeth was happy because Jane was. She had herself danced once with Mr Darcy, and was feeling a little dizzy and confused because of it, and then there was the strange conversation with the countess.  
  
Dancing with Mr Darcy had been interesting. Remembering what she had said to him was so painful and embarrassing; why was he so agreeable towards her now? If she was him, she would have ran away as soon as he saw her. She couldn't understand it, and endeavoured to sleep, and tried to think of Jane's new happiness in meeting Bingley again, but still the image of Mr Darcy popped up whenever she thought she had got rid of it. Hence, it was not a good sleep that Elizabeth had that night, while Jane fell asleep peacefully beside her almost as soon as they blew out the candle.  
  
She woke up much later than usual. The light was streaming through the curtains, resting softly on her face and making blurry squares on the floor. Jane was already up, washing in the basin across the room. Elizabeth pushed herself up onto her elbows, and brushed her hair off her face. "Good morning, Jane," she said lazily.  
  
Jane turned around and smiled. It was the first time Elizabeth had seen her smile so in a long time. "Good morning, Lazy Lizzy."  
  
Elizabeth groaned. "I could not get to sleep. Heaven knows why, for I was tired enough, but you know how it is sometimes . . . Too much to think about."  
  
Jane laughed. "Yes, I could understand that, but I would look at it as too much to dream about."  
  
Elizabeth gave her a mischievous look. "And who were you dreaming about?" Jane blushed, and did not answer. "I am very happy that you have met him again, Jane."  
  
"I cannot imagine who you are talking about," smiled Jane.  
  
"I think it is safe to say that he is as much enamoured of you as always."  
  
"You must not say that, Lizzy," said Jane seriously. "Please do not raise my hopes."  
  
"I will be silent on the subject," promised Elizabeth.  
  
Elizabeth washed and got dressed too, and they ventured downstairs for breakfast. The Gardiner's, a merry clan, laughed heartily when they saw the latecomers. "Up with the birds as always, eh, Elizabeth?" Mr Gardiner teased her. "I presume you enjoyed the dance?"  
  
"Yes, I did," she said, laughing too. Elizabeth ate her breakfast quickly, eager to escape the four walls as usual. "I am going for a walk, uncle," she said.  
  
"In what direction, my dear?"  
  
"The park."  
  
"Goodbye; have a pleasant walk."  
  
The park was the only place she had been in London that gave her some sort of comfort from her homesickness. It was a long walk from Gracechurch Street, yes, but it was worth it, to flee the ever-present dirt, noise and squalor of town. There were places in the park where she could almost imagine herself home again, on a walk near Longbourn.  
  
Arriving at the park, she quickly made her way through the gates and around the corner to her favourite grove. She gave a contented sigh as she finally rested again in the small clearing surrounded by thick trees and shrubs, and sat down on the park bench there. Through the gap in the trees she could see blue sky, and the air was fresher here than it was outside the park gates.  
  
A slight noise stunned her as a girl slipped through a bush into the clearing. "Oh, goodness, I am sorry to disturb you!" she said. "I've just been trying to escape, you see." She was a thin girl, about seventeen years old, with thick brown hair and twinkling eyes. She wore a very pretty dress and pelisse, with a handsome bonnet, and she was obviously from the gentility.  
  
Elizabeth smiled, sensing a spirit not dissimilar to her own. "Not at all," she said. "I perfectly comprehend your feelings. Who are you trying to escape?"  
  
The girl rolled her eyes. "Sir Humphrey Wells. The most boorish pig around. He must insist on trying to flirt with me. I wish he would leave me alone."  
  
Elizabeth understood. "I know exactly how you feel," she said, emphatically. "A cousin of mine was like that to me a while ago, but finally I managed to disgust him away, and he married someone else."  
  
"Disgust him away?" said the girl, looking interested. "Now why did I not think of that? Next time I see Sir Humphrey I'll try it."  
  
Elizabeth laughed and stuck out her hand. "Elizabeth Bennet."  
  
"I'm Rosalind Fitzwilliam," said the girl, with a broad grin. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."  
  
"Lady Rosalind?" said Elizabeth, interested. "Why, I have heard of you!"  
  
"Oh, you must call me Rosalind; nobody calls me Lady for long, for I am not much of one – but how did you come to hear of me?"  
  
"I am acquainted with a certain gentleman called Mr Darcy, and I met your mother last night."  
  
Rosalind started laughing. "Oh, I thought your name sounded familiar!"  
  
"My name?"  
  
"Darcy talks about you constantly, and Mama also was talking about you this morning. She kept on asking Papa if he had ever met you or your sister, for she was sure she had seen you before. She even described you down to the last freckle."  
  
Elizabeth was deeply perplexed. The unspoken was, 'Darcy talks about me constantly?!' And the spoken: "Is that so? Well, I am sure I have never met your parents before."  
  
"Mama gets on these obsessed freaks sometimes," said Rosalind. "I'm sure it will blow over when she realises she thought you went to school with her or some obscure thing like that. I am disappointed I did not go to the dance last night if it could have meant meeting you." She smiled brilliantly. "Will you walk with me for a way? I don't want to encounter Sir Humphrey again, and he will not be looking for a pair of girls."  
  
"I would be very happy to," said Elizabeth, taking the younger girl's arm.  
  
*****************  
  
And it all turned out that Elizabeth Bennet and Rosalind Fitzwilliam were firm friends by the time they reached the park gates an hour or so later, despite the difference in their ages, and the disparity of their fortunes. Lady Rosalind was still talking nineteen to the dozen. "And so you met my brother in Kent? How I wish I had gone too, now! But Aunt Catherine despises me, and all the time spent without you would have been a bore. Richard is good enough company, but I talk so much I grate on his nerves sometimes, and besides, I am ten years younger than him, and his sister – he would rather be flirting with someone else or doing nothing than sit listening to my prattling. Did he flirt with you? He is a dreadful flirt sometimes. I think Georgiana is a lot more lucky in her choice of older brothers. Oh, that is Georgiana Darcy, my cousin. Her brother, whom you know, is so kind to her; always giving her presents, always looking after her, always protecting her – Georgiana needs protection, you know. She is so shy! I suppose I would hate it if Thomas or Richard tried to protect me – I am very independent – but still sometimes I envy Georgiana her elder brother."  
  
"I envy you any brothers at all!" said Elizabeth. "I have four sisters – although I would not give up Jane, the eldest, for anything, I would love to have a brother." She sighed quietly, thinking of how life would be if she had had a brother. She would still be at Longbourn, for one.  
  
"Oh no you don't!" said Rosalind emphatically. "Not mine, anyway! If you had grown up with them hiding frogs in your bed and worms in your underwear and cockroaches in your bureau . . . Suffice it to say," she finished grandly, "my brothers are headaches!"  
  
Elizabeth laughed. "Still . . . to have an agreeable, gentle brother would be a thing indeed."  
  
Rosalind smiled. "Yes, it would." She paused. "Although you mustn't go thinking I would rather be without my brothers. I don't know what I would do without them. I have often wished to have a sister or two, though – at least someone with feminine sensibilities who is not several decades older than me. I know! You can be my new sister! We'll pretend."  
  
"Certainly," said Elizabeth. "One more sister cannot do much harm." They both laughed. Elizabeth looked at the clock across the square they had come to. "I must go, Rosalind," she said reluctantly. "It has been such a lovely morning."  
  
"Oh, must you?" said Rosalind, disappointed. "I suppose if you must, you must. Will you come and call on me soon?"  
  
"Of course," said Elizabeth, gratified.  
  
*****************  
  
Mr Bingley had been in while she was walking in the park with Lady Rosalind. Elizabeth had just missed him, and for that she was disappointed, because she liked Mr Bingley very much. But she was happy to see Jane looking radiant, and smiling as she ran up to Elizabeth. "Oh Lizzy, you only just missed Mr Bingley! He called! Isn't that lovely of him?"  
  
"Oh Jane," said Elizabeth with a sly smile, "he is the very essence of loveliness."  
  
"You mustn't tease me, Lizzy," said Jane, finding it impossible to conform her unbiddable, smiling mouth into lazy indifference.  
  
"Was it an agreeable visit?" Elizabeth asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Yes, it was."  
  
"Did he wear his blue coat?"  
  
"Yes, he did."  
  
"Did he say he would come again?"  
  
"Oh, that reminds me – you and I and our uncle and aunt are invited to his residence for dinner on this coming Monday night. Lydia is sulking because she was not invited. Mary never cares anyway, and Kitty is visiting her friend on Rupert Avenue that evening and so doesn't mind." Jane started to walk away. But she turned. "Oh, and Mr Darcy is invited too."  
  
"Oh," said Elizabeth, feeling a little apprehensive. She was not absolutely sure if she could be quite comfortable in his presence yet.  
  
"Lizzy," said Jane, looking around, "were you very uncomfortable seeing him again at the last night?"  
  
"Oh yes," said Elizabeth fervently. She blushed. "I do not know how he stands the sight of me after all the unjust things I said to him. Oh Jane, you remember how I met his aunt? Well, in the park today, I met her young daughter Lady Rosalind – she is about seventeen, I would say – and she is delightful. I am going to visit her on Tuesday morning." Elizabeth paused. "Jane . . . do you also have a feeling that things are getting sunnier?"  
  
Jane pursed her lips slightly. "I almost don't want to say I do for fear that they are not, Lizzy. I have learnt that it is best not to rely on some things as fixed parts of the future." She smiled. "But in a way, yes. I somehow feel more optimistic now." Now she giggled. "At least I have something else to think about now than trying to reconcile myself to the fishmonger's son."  
  
Elizabeth laughed. "Jane – did you not like him?! How is it possible?"  
  
"He is a very worthy man, as you know, Lizzy, and you should not make fun of him like you do."  
  
"Worthy, yes, but pungent, also," said Elizabeth wryly.  
  
Jane almost smiled. "I will not deny that Mr Black does have a certain odour hanging about him."  
  
"Radiating from him, more like it," said Elizabeth, and turned to go away.  
  
"And you, Lizzy?" called Jane after her. "Will you be soliciting the carpenter's attentions in the future? Or have you hopes of another's affections?"  
  
Elizabeth stopped dead. "What?" she said feebly. "You know I never solicited Mr Thompson's most unflattering attentions."  
  
"You are being evasive, Lizzy," said Jane, amused.  
  
***************** 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Gardiner – Miss Bennet – Miss Elizabeth," beamed Mr Bingley, standing up as they entered the room. "Welcome to my home!" Elizabeth felt a slight jerk somewhere in her stomach as she saw Mr Darcy turn round from his post at the window and look straight at her, and smile slightly.  
  
Those who were female curtsied, and those who were male bowed. "Thank you for you kind invitation, Mr Bingley," said Mr Gardiner.  
  
"You do me great honour in accepting it," said Mr Bingley happily, shaking Mr Gardiner's hand.  
  
Afterwards, when Elizabeth thought of the first part of the evening, she thought simultaneously of cosiness and laughter. It was the first evening since her parents had died, and since she had left Longbourn, that she had felt she was, in some small way, comfortable again. Maybe it was the fact that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were there, reminding her of those days at Longbourn not so long ago. She didn't know. But one could not help but feel very optimistic for Jane, no matter how much one had decided not to get one's hopes up, when one saw with what faithful attentiveness Mr Bingley treated Jane. And although there had to be a little awkwardness with Mr Darcy there, he seemed to act as if nothing had happened, much to her relief – although, of course, he was much more agreeable than before.  
  
When Mr Bingley heard that she and Mary had had to sell their pianoforte, he was immediately distressed, and insisted that Elizabeth play as long as she liked in the music room down the hallway. She was grateful; although she felt the embarrassment that she was in such straitened circumstances that she had to sell a pianoforte, her longing to play again overrode this.  
  
She made her way down to the music room, and sighed happily as she collapsed on the piano stool and began to play some of her favourite pieces. She preferred aching music at the time; it seemed to capture exactly what she wanted to express. And she needed expression. If she wasn't able to release some of the tensions inside her, she would go mad. After a particularly heartfelt rendition of one of the most aching songs Mr Bingley had in his collection, she slumped on the piano stool and began to cry. Playing a pianoforte again seemed to remind her of exactly what she was missing now. One could say it triggered a door to open in her memory. And all at once she was miserable again, and longing for Father – and in her mournful state, even wishing Mama was there, although she knew that if her mother had been there, it would have driven her even closer to insanity.  
  
To her horror, the door opened. "Miss Bennet, you are wanted back in the parlour to join us in a game of cards," said Mr Darcy, before comprehension came to him. "Oh! Miss Bennet!"  
  
Elizabeth had jumped up off the piano stool and was standing self- consciously wiping her face. "Mr Darcy?" she managed to whisper.  
  
"Oh dear," he said, and stood stock still. "May I assist you in any way, Miss Bennet?"  
  
"No," she said, and was not able to stop herself bursting into tears again. He walked across to her cautiously, and for the second time that week, passed her his handkerchief. "Thank you," she managed to say. "Please forgive me . . . so foolish . . ."  
  
"Not at all," he said gently.  
  
Mr Darcy being gentle was such a foreign concept that Elizabeth could hardly understand it. She calmed down a little. She sighed. "It's just playing the pianoforte again – it brings back all these memories I thought I had successfully put to rest." She gave a wobbly little laugh. "Foolish, I know."  
  
"I understand," he said, and hesitated. "My father died several years ago, as I think you know. The strangest things would bring back memories."  
  
Elizabeth looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. He was the strangest person alive, that much was clear! Was this the same man she had hated? Yes, it was – but it was now obvious that she had completely misjudged him. He was sensitive, sometimes gentle, and kind. She had ignored these qualities and completely exaggerated in her mind his bolder traits, like his commanding presence, his pride, and his polite frankness.  
  
"Come, sit down," he said. "Have a chance to recover before you return to the parlour."  
  
She obeyed him without argument. After a moment, she spoke again. "I wish it were simple enough that I could just say, 'My father is dead, that is that', and put him to rest. But it is not."  
  
"What do you mean?" he said. "Unfortunately you could say that. How is it not simple?"  
  
She sighed. "I don't why it bothers me so, but . . . "She paused uncertainly. "I have not spoken much of this, and neither has Jane, but it remains constantly in my mind."  
  
"Yes," he prompted her, after a pause.  
  
"I am just so confused, and I must tell someone!" she said soberly. "Whether for good or ill, you have turned up just as it threatens to burst out of me, and so I must tell you. My father ... on his deathbed, he said to Jane and I – I cannot understand it! – he said that we must remember the names Lara and Vivian. He offered no explanation and I have been puzzled and not quite comfortable with it ever since."  
  
For some reason Mr Darcy had gone rather white. "Did you say, Lara and Vivian?"  
  
Elizabeth didn't notice his change of colour and was only looking at the floor pensively. "Yes."  
  
He said nothing for a while. After a very long pause, Mr Darcy spoke in a curiously heightened voice. "Miss Bennet – I think, I conjecture, that I may know what your father meant by those names."  
  
"Really?" she said eagerly. "Do tell me!"  
  
He swallowed. "I think – perhaps – I had better talk to someone else about this first," he said. "May I just ask – who is your family lawyer?"  
  
"Oh, I forget, someone named Errings, or Evans – yes! It is Evans," Elizabeth replied.  
  
"Thank you," he said.  
  
Elizabeth smiled, completely unaware of what had perhaps just been greatly affected in the lives of several people. "My pleasure. You will tell me if you are right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Shall we return to the parlour? I feel much better now. Thank you for the use of your handkerchief."  
  
Mr Darcy led her back, trying not to gulp every few seconds. If she indeed was Vivian, and her sister was indeed Lara – everything changed. The rest of the evening passed interminably for him, and he sat with his brows knitted, intensely thinking, and he felt the curious looks the others gave him but could not bring himself to act his usual self, even for the repeated looks Elizabeth gave him. This was too big.  
  
*****************  
  
"Why, good morning, Darcy," said the countess breezily as he walked into the Matlock town house at breakfast. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I think I had better eat first, aunt, and then talk," said Mr Darcy, trying not to be too serious but endeavouring also not to appear jovial. This was a very hard thing to decide; how to tell them. He knew it would be a huge shock.  
  
"Why, Darcy," grinned Rosalind, "who said you were invited to eat?"  
  
"Rosalind, mind your manners," said her father, although he was smiling a little. "Darcy knows that he is always welcome to eat here, even if it is unspoken."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Darcy smiled. He desperately hoped that telling this news would be a kindness, not an ill to both the Bennets and the family of Lord John Fitzwilliam, in repayment for the Fitzwilliam family's constant kindness to him. He looked around the room. "Thomas and Richard are not out of bed yet?"  
  
"No," said Rosalind, rolling her eyes. "They went to a party last night with some friends and did not return until very late. Even Thomas' usual affinity with the birds hasn't kicked in today."  
  
"I hope they may be up soon, because I want to discuss something with you all," said Darcy nervously.  
  
Lord Matlock looked up, sensing the unusual lack of calm in his nephew. "What is it?"  
  
"Eat first, talk later," said Darcy with a smile.  
  
Of course this meant that the three Fitzwilliam's scrambled through their breakfast as quickly as possible, while Darcy chewed as lethargically as was mentally supportable, wading through much more than usual – simply to prolong their ignorance, and possibly their happiness. What would be their reaction to discovering the identities of their two long lost daughters, and how would Jane and Elizabeth Bennet take it? They were still in the throes of their losses; how would such a massive upheaval of everything they knew make them feel now?  
  
Would Elizabeth think the worse of him for ruining the fragile veneer of their lives?  
  
Finally Darcy knew he could not put it off anymore. He looked up from his plate at last, and pushed it slightly away. "Should we wait for Thomas and Richard?"  
  
"No," said Rosalind, as her father said, "Yes, if this is important."  
  
"Oh, Father!" said Rosalind, clearly extremely impatient to hear what the news was.  
  
"Rosalind," said her father, quelling all argument.  
  
They sat silently for several minutes while the servants cleared the meal away. "How is Georgiana?" said Lady Matlock after a while.  
  
"She is well, thank you, and comes from Derbyshire today," said Mr Darcy.  
  
"Is her piano playing as excellent as ever?"  
  
"Mama, really," said Rosalind. "How can you doubt Georgiana's skill?"  
  
"I am not doubting it, Rosalind, I am merely making conversation at an awkward moment, for I can see that Darcy has something important to impart to us, and I am nervous," said the countess in a rush.  
  
"Oh, I understand," said Rosalind. "Oh, hurry up, Thomas, hurry up, Richard!"  
  
At this opportune moment, the aforementioned burst through the door. "Richard was still sleeping," said Thomas darkly. "I had to wake him. I am sorry."  
  
Richard grinned, and yawned widely. "You were not waiting for us, were you?"  
  
"Yes, we were!" said Rosalind.  
  
They were immediately contrite. "You must have eaten? Then why were you waiting for us?"  
  
"Darcy has something to say to us, and we think it best for the whole family to be here," explained their mother.  
  
"Something to say to us!" said Thomas. "That sounds ominous. Have you lost all your fortune on 'Change, Darcy? Coming to beg us to rescue you the duns?"  
  
Darcy couldn't help smiling. "No, Thomas, I have not. Will you sit down? Rosalind has been odiously impatient."  
  
Rosalind laughed. "You horrid man! Georgiana would be ashamed! Why, you act so gentlemanlike, and then-"  
  
Lord Matlock interjected calmly. "Rosalind, please stop chattering. Darcy, will you please end our suffering and tell us what the matter is."  
  
Darcy let out a long sigh. "Alright. I still don't really know how I am supposed to tell you this. I have thought about it all night, and still am not sure." He paused again, and all his long, carefully planned speech went out the window. "Aunt and uncle, I think I have found Lara and Vivian." 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
The reactions of each Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy's extraordinary announcement were different. Lady Matlock let out a gasp, turned white, and started to breath deeply, looking at the ceiling. Lord Matlock also turned white, but clutched the table and leaned forward, eyes wide. Thomas looked a little doubtful; ready for another false hope and subsequent disappointment. Richard jumped convulsively and stared at Darcy. Rosalind looked around the table blankly, obviously completely ignorant and confused on why those names should create such a reaction in the rest of her family.  
  
"Darcy – are you sure?" whispered the earl.  
  
"Well, I have not proved it totally, but I have some proof."  
  
"Will someone tell me what is going on?" Rosalind's voice rose above the thick silence.  
  
Lord and Lady Matlock looked at each other. "Rosalind," said her father, "I must tell you this quickly for I need to find out more from Darcy, so please don't question until after we have totally and completely finished – to be brief, I was kidnapped as a child and brought up as a foundling, I married your mother, and we had four children – Thomas and Richard and two girls: Lara and Vivian. We were so poor that we had to adopt Lara and Vivian out, not knowing where they went or who they went to, and after this Darcy's father found us and I discovered my true identity. We have never been able to find Lara and Vivian."  
  
For once Rosalind was speechless, to everyone else's relief. "Now, Darcy," said Lady Matlock, her voice trembling, "tell us everything. Please."  
  
"Very well," said Darcy. The worst was over. He could now relax a little. "I know Lara and Vivian, who have different names now, from some time spent in the country. They have come to London with their adoptive sisters to live with an aunt and uncle, because their adoptive parents died several months ago. They have no idea they are adopted, and are not living in the easiest means. In conversation with the woman who must be Vivian, she told me that when her father died, he told her and her older sister not to forget the names Lara and Vivian. She was obviously completely confused by this. Now I was terribly shocked by the implications of this, and could not exactly interrogate her, but I asked her the name of the family lawyer, and it was Evans."  
  
"Good heavens," said Lord Matlock blankly. "It really must be them."  
  
"I have two sisters and you never told me about it?" whispered Rosalind, finally recovering from her stupor.  
  
"Shhh," said her mother, watching Darcy intently. "Darcy – who are they?"  
  
It was very hard to say. It felt like he was jumping off a precipice. "Richard and I know them already."  
  
"We do?" said Richard, confused. "You don't mean to say, Darcy-"  
  
"Their names are Jane and Elizabeth Bennet," said Darcy wearily. "Aunt, you met them at the Assembly Rooms the other night."  
  
"And I recognised them," said Lady Matlock, as if she was in a trance.  
  
"Yes," said Darcy.  
  
"And I met Elizabeth!" said Rosalind.  
  
All eyes turned her way. "When?"  
  
"On my walk in the park the other day; she helped me escape Sir Humphrey, and I invited her around here to visit me this morning. Are you telling me she is my sister?"  
  
"Yes, dear," said her mother, still in her trance-like state. "John, what is to be done?"  
  
He was fiddling awkwardly with his knife and fork. "I'm not sure, Cecilia; right now I am so muddled up I don't quite know what to think, let alone do."  
  
"You're muddled up!" said Rosalind. "Why, I find out today that I have two sisters and that my father was a foundling, and you expect me just to say, 'Oh, that's interesting', and not be at least profoundly shocked?"  
  
Everyone ignored her, except for Darcy – the other Fitzwilliam's engaged in staring at their plates and looking blindingly amazed. "Yes, it is a little surprising, Rosalind, I grant you that, but you must own your parents have a lot to be surprised about as well."  
  
"You are a master of understatement," grumbled Rosalind under her breath. "A little surprising! For goodness' sake!"  
  
The earl looked up at Darcy, this time with a truly excited grin on his face. "Darcy, it hasn't quite sunk in yet, but what do you think we can do? Do you suppose they will want to recognise us as their ... parents?"  
  
"I don't know," said Darcy, shaking his head helplessly.  
  
Lord Matlock moved to his wife and gripped her hand. "Cecilia – I do believe I'm about to explode with joy."  
  
She smiled up at him. "Oh, I am too, John, but John, what if ... I just can't help dreading some parts of what must be the future!"  
  
"How are we going to tell the Bennet's – I mean, Lara and Vivian – who they really are?" said Richard, waking up from his dream.  
  
Rosalind squealed.  
  
"What is it?" said her father.  
  
"Elizabeth is walking up the steps now! I forgot I had asked her to come!"  
  
"Oh no!" said Lady Matlock. "John, what are we going to do?"  
  
But her husband was at the window, gazing down at the young woman who was knocking at the great door, looking around her with interest and the softest look in his eyes that Darcy had ever seen on him. "This is Vivian? I should have known those eyes anywhere. No wonder you recognised her, Cecilia."  
  
But his wife had jumped up and was waving her arms around, flustered. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear – Darcy, I want to see her, I really do, but I just don't think I am prepared!" Thomas was edging out of his chair, eyes wide, and Richard was sitting stock still with his mouth open.  
  
"Everyone calm down," Mr Darcy said in that firm, calm voice. "I do not think that the present is a very good time to meet her – at all. You must remember that it will be a great shock to her as well, and I have a feeling it would be better for her if she was in a familiar, comfortable place when she finds out the truth about her past – and with her sister, whom she is very close to. Rosalind and I will go to greet her – will you act normally, Rosalind? Good – the rest of you will stay out of the way – we will make excuses. I will visit her later today, and reveal everything. Then we will just have to see what happens."  
  
"Yes, yes, you are right, of course, Darcy," said Lady Matlock, sitting down nervously. "Quick, Rosalind, run out to meet her, or the butler will show her in here. Goodness me! I feel like I am playing hide and seek. I just don't know how to act. John ..." she finished pleadingly, and he came back from the window and embraced his wife as Rosalind ran out of the room, followed closely by Darcy.  
  
"Good morning!" smiled Elizabeth as Rosalind ran up to meet her. "How do you do, Rosalind?" She saw Darcy following and blushed slightly. "Why, good morning to you also, Mr Darcy."  
  
"Hello, Elizabeth," said Rosalind, perhaps a little woodenly, but passably normal. "My cousin has been around for breakfast."  
  
Elizabeth smiled at him mischievously. "Are you one of those roguish dandies who live off anyone but themselves?"  
  
He smiled, relaxing slightly. "Undoubtedly. Indeed, my cousin Thomas asked me whether I had lost all my fortune on gambling and was obliged to beg Lord Matlock to save me from the duns."  
  
Elizabeth laughed, surprised at his light-hearted acceptance of her teasing. "How shocking, sir."  
  
He smiled back as Rosalind, her brow wrinkled a little at the evident friendliness between the two of them, spoke. "Will you come to the parlour?"  
  
*******************  
  
Elizabeth returned to Gracechurch Street a little earlier than she had expected. Rosalind was friendly, but not as easy-going as she had been. Elizabeth wondered why – perhaps the presence of her cousin Darcy made her nervous. Thinking over that more comprehensively, though, she had to dismiss the possibility. Rosalind had not spoken of Darcy before as if she was intimidated by him; indeed, Elizabeth found it very hard trying to imagine Rosalind being made nervous by anyone, least of all a cousin who was on such terms with her family that he ate his breakfast with them.  
  
Mr Darcy had cornered her before she left. "May I come and call on you this afternoon?" he asked quietly. "I would like to see your sister and yourself regarding the issue we talked about at Charles Bingley's last night."  
  
"Oh, have you deduced it all?" said Elizabeth breezily. "Of course, come over. I will make sure we are both home."  
  
She told Jane about it all now. At first she had not wanted to tell her sister what had passed between herself and Mr Darcy the previous night, fearing her disapproval in laying such a private affair before Mr Darcy, who was a bare acquaintance at the most. But now it was necessary to inform her sister, as with any luck everything was going to be made clear. She did feel a slight apprehension, but being in a good mood from an early morning walk in Richmond Park, and for once not feeling like she had a great weight hanging over her, she was inclined to shrug everything away and let what was unknown remain unconjectured until that afternoon.  
  
Jane did not feel the same way. When Elizabeth told her what was happening, she looked away straight away with a stricken look on her face. "Oh, Lizzy!"  
  
"Oh, Jane, don't worry yourself about it. It can hardly be that important."  
  
"Then why did Father seem so serious about it, if it was not important?" Jane demanded. "Treat it as you will – all the better for you – but I cannot help feeling very apprehensive about this interview with Mr Darcy this afternoon. I told you some months ago that the names Lara and Vivian seemed familiar to me, did I not?"  
  
"Yes," admitted Elizabeth, "but really, Jane, you may just have heard of some twins called ... Nora and Ellen – or something like that. You call it what you wish; I think you are just mixed up."  
  
Jane looked out the window. "Here is Mr Darcy now."  
  
"He is?" asked Elizabeth, interested. "Why, what beautiful horses! I should like to ride behind them." She watched Mr Darcy coming up to the steps of the house and knocking. "He is very handsome, isn't he?"  
  
Jane smiled now. "Oh Lizzy," she said, "he is the very essence of handsomeness."  
  
Although Elizabeth blushed, she laughed too. "You naughty girl, Jane, using one of my own taunts! However, I was merely stating a fact."  
  
"Of course," said Jane, looking sly.  
  
Elizabeth was sober now. "Jane ... you must not believe that I ... that I think of him in that way."  
  
"Pardon me, Elizabeth," replied Jane, feeling guilty at once, as Jane was wont to do. "I am sorry for teasing you."  
  
The door of the sitting room opened, and Mr Darcy walked in and bowed, while Elizabeth and Jane curtsied. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," he said politely. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
"Mr Darcy," said Jane. "Thank you for coming. My sister informs me you have something to tell us."  
  
"Yes," he said, "and I think it best to start talking about it at once."  
  
Elizabeth looked at Jane, suppressing a look of astonishment. Perhaps Jane was right.  
  
They all sat. "Miss Bennet, I presume your sister has told you what we discussed last night?" Jane inclined her head. "Very good. Well – I have solved the mystery."  
  
Elizabeth couldn't help but be caught up at least a little by the tension of the moment. "Do tell us, sir."  
  
Mr Darcy looked serious, even a little sad. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I must tell you it is quite a big thing I must impart to you. It has the power to change your lives, and complete would be the change."  
  
Jane sat, looking almost unruffled, while Elizabeth started to stew. What could it be, oh, what could it be, what could it be?!  
  
"I had first best tell you the story of my cousin – I call him uncle, but really he is my cousin – the Earl of Matlock. Miss Elizabeth, you met his wife at the assembly rooms not very long ago. When he was a very small boy, closer to infancy than childhood, he was asleep in his parent's carriage outside an inn, and when some ruffians stole the carriage, he was taken along. He was lost to his parents, and found a year later by a man who ran an orphanage for foundlings. My cousin was brought up as a foundling and only discovered himself to be an earl when he was about thirty, when my father did some investigations, and located Lord Matlock, his cousin."  
  
"What an amazing story," commented Jane calmly.  
  
"Yes," said Mr Darcy, looking a little haggard. "Here comes the difficult part to tell; before Lord Matlock found out his true identity, he was very poor. Extremely poor, in fact. He and his wife had two sons and two daughters whom they could not provide for properly, and in despair they decided to adopt out the two daughters." He paused. Jane and Elizabeth looked blank. "Of course, when my cousin came into the earldom, they regretted this step immensely, and tried everything to get the two girls back, but they did not know their identities and could not find them anywhere." He paused longer this time, and looked at the ground as he quickly said, "The daughters' names were Lara and Vivian."  
  
The response was immediate. Jane started, and gripped Elizabeth's wrist so tightly her whole hand was white, and Elizabeth gave a small scream. "You don't mean to say – you are not suggesting – that we ... are those daughters?" she whispered.  
  
"I'm afraid so," said Mr Darcy.  
  
Elizabeth quickly calmed down, and almost laughed. "I think you have made a big mistake, Mr Darcy," she said, standing up. "It's not us."  
  
"On the contrary," he replied. "Everything points to it being you."  
  
"Sit down, Lizzy," said Jane, trying to be firm but failing miserably as she struggled for composure. "It does seem too amazing, certainly, but you must agree it does seem that we are at least in some small way connected to this."  
  
Elizabeth sat down and looked at the floor, as did Jane. She took a convulsive gulp of breath. "Mr Darcy, may I just clarify what you are saying?"  
  
"Certainly," he replied.  
  
"My late parents, Mr and Mrs Bennet, are not my real parents. They adopted Jane and I from your cousin the Earl of Matlock ... except he was not the Earl then ... and Jane and I are not Jane and I but we are his daughters. Is this what you believe?"  
  
Mr Darcy paused. "Yes."  
  
"It is too wild!" cried Elizabeth, jumping up. "Have you gone mad? Things like this do not happen in real life!"  
  
Jane pulled Lizzy down again. "Sir, do you have any other proof?"  
  
"Well, yes," said Darcy reluctantly. It gave him pain to see them so upset. "I visited your lawyer Evans this morning. He was the one who orchestrated the whole adoption, and the only one who knew what had become of the two Fitzwilliam girls until now – my cousin had made him promise never to tell him where the girls were when he first adopted them out. However, under the circumstances, he agreed to tell me what I already knew."  
  
The room was deathly silent for a few moments.  
  
And then a few more.  
  
"Mr Darcy," whispered Jane, "what do the Fitzwilliam's – our parents – expect of us?"  
  
Elizabeth looked at Jane in shock. "Jane?"  
  
Jane was pensive. "I told you I had some recollection of those names, Lizzy. I am certain that what Mr Darcy tells us is the truth." She looked at Darcy again. "Sir?"  
  
"You are right in assuming I have told the Fitzwilliam's," said Darcy. "In all honesty, I cannot tell you what they expect. Their reaction was much the same as yours; Rosalind did not even know she had two sisters. I think that they await your expectations. The Earl and Countess were particularly thrown into a whirl, as they have been looking for you and wishing for you these past two decades." He paused. "I know this is a very awkward thing for you to handle. Please believe me when I say you are under no compunction whatsoever to recognise this connexion. It is entirely up to you. But I will say that the Fitzwilliam's are a family who would be nothing but warm and who have missed you so much. They would be made so happy by your return to them. And forgive me for speaking plainly, but I know your circumstances are not good presently. Any of those worries would be gone forever if you rejoined your family." Darcy sighed. "Please think about it." He stood to leave.  
  
Jane stood up, and Elizabeth followed slowly. "Thank you, sir, for taking such trouble over this," said Jane, still white, but otherwise composed. "Will you please visit us soon? We will think about it seriously, and give you an answer."  
  
Mr Darcy nodded. "I shall visit you tomorrow evening, if that is convenient." He left quickly, and took a breath of massive dimensions directly after leaving the house. And so it was done. He had done his duty. He tried to keep himself from thinking what could happen if Jane and Elizabeth decided against rejoining the Fitzwilliam clan. He didn't think he would ever be able to see Elizabeth again; at least, not in the casual, friendly way they had met in the past few days. Lord and Lady Matlock would be devastated. He didn't know if they would be able to get over losing their two daughters a second time. He sat back in his carriage, closing his eyes, and breathed deeply. In. Out. In. Out.  
  
*****************  
  
Jane and Elizabeth sat in the parlour without saying a word for several minutes. When the silence became so oppressive Elizabeth could hardly breathe anymore, she jumped up and ran to the bedchamber. Jane followed her slowly. "Oh Lizzy," she said wearily, sitting down by the form of her sister sobbing into the pillow.  
  
Elizabeth sat up. "Jane, what on earth are we going to do?"  
  
"As it has been said, Lizzy, the simple option is always the best."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
Jane paused. "I think, Lizzy, that once you have reconciled yourself to the idea, the obvious thing to do is to rejoin our true parents."  
  
"Jane, our whole life has been a lie!"  
  
"No, it hasn't, Lizzy," said Jane. "You are being over-dramatic. We have been perfectly valid daughters of James and Fanny Bennet."  
  
Elizabeth calmed down. "You are right. It's just that ... it almost feels like betrayal – of Father. And Mama, of course."  
  
"I know what you mean, but it's not, Lizzy."  
  
Elizabeth was quiet. "I know, Jane," she said after a while, brightening up. "Being a burden to our aunt and uncle has weighed heavily on us, we both agree on that. So this will be a part of our decision, will it not?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, I don't mind what you do, go and rejoin the earl and countess if you wish, but I will become a governess."  
  
Jane rolled her eyes. "It's not funny, Lizzy."  
  
"I'm serious!" said Elizabeth, and Jane saw that she was. "I have several friends who have mentioned that they were looking for governesses for friends of theirs before. It wouldn't be hard to find a position. I can do all the basic things that a governess is required to do. I could earn my own keep at last. I daresay it is not the ideal occupation I could wish for, but I'm sure I would enjoy it. I like children."  
  
"Lizzy, are you out of your mind?" asked Jane. "Of course you cannot be a governess! Our aunt and uncle would never allow it, I could never do without you, and what would the Fitzwilliam's think?"  
  
She had made a mistake in saying this. "I do not care a fig what the Fitzwilliam's think!" cried Elizabeth, firing up. "If they are so snobbish they couldn't bear their flesh and blood to work in such an occupation, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with them in any event!"  
  
"Elizabeth," said Jane, grabbing her sister's hand, "it is not a matter of snobbery. It is a matter of knowing their daughter is confined to a life of drudgery and penury. I will remind you that our real parents lived in poverty for a large part of their lives, according to Mr Darcy. I very much doubt they have a snobbish bone in them. I don't think you can be thinking this through. We have never had a governess ourselves, but you must know what it's like for them! You are exaggerating our poverty; you feel ashamed that the Gardiner's have to keep us. We are not so badly off! In any case, there is no need whatsoever for you to sacrifice yourself."  
  
"Jane, I don't think you can be thinking this through. It is a very good idea! I don't know why-"  
  
"Don't make me lose you, Lizzy," said Jane quietly. "I cannot do without you."  
  
Elizabeth stopped mid-rant and embraced her sister. "Jane, I don't think you realise how terrified I am at the very thought of entering the Fitzwilliam family."  
  
"Yes, I do, Lizzy, and I will thank you to remember that I am in exactly the same position as you are," said Jane, slightly grumpily. "However, let me show you the advantages. Firstly, we would no longer be any charge on the Gardiner's. Secondly, we could help out our sisters. Thirdly, we would have no more monetary worries. Fourthly, the Fitzwilliam's are our true parents. This would be more of a blessing than you realise, I am sure. Fifthly, as opposed to you selling yourself as a governess, we would be together. Sixthly, do you realise the non-existence of your chances with Mr Darcy as a governess?-"  
  
"Jane!" cried Elizabeth, outraged. "I have never thought of him-"  
  
"Seventhly, I should... I should see Mr Bingley more often," said Jane, blushing, and rushing on to the next reason as quickly as was possible, "and eighthly, you would be the sister of Rosalind and Captain Fitzwilliam, and the other brother, and I have heard you say on countless occasions that they are the most amiable people alive."  
  
Elizabeth smiled reluctantly. "Convincing reasons, Jane."  
  
Jane smiled too. "I flatter myself they are."  
  
Elizabeth was suddenly arrested by a thought. "Wait a moment! I could go and live with the Collinses!"  
  
"Lizzy," said Jane loudly and slowly, "if you would rather spend the rest of your days with Mr Collins than with the Fitzwilliam's, you are clearly out of your brain. I will spend no more time trying to change your mind and instead send post-haste for Bedlam."  
  
Elizabeth laughed. "I did not predict that I would be laughing half an hour after Mr Darcy's departure." But she was serious again soon enough. "Jane, I know there are many good reasons for doing what you think we should. But I can't promise not to think about being a governess. I think it is a very good idea, to tell the truth."  
  
Jane looked uncomfortable. It was a difficult enough decision without Elizabeth making things worse.  
  
***************** 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
Mr Darcy ate with the Fitzwilliam's the following evening. The atmosphere was quite different to any other he had experienced while being in their company. The Fitzwilliam's picked at their food and spoke hardly a word. Darcy, surprisingly, was the one who attempted the most conversation, quite contrary to some people's impressions of him. However, after several fruitless attempts, he gave up.  
  
He left the house about eight o'clock, and entered the Gardiner home substantially later, only after sitting in his carriage for some time, plucking up his courage. For some reason, it felt like this was a turning point in world history and the fate of the universe was all up to him; or like if he didn't make this work out, nothing else would in his life.  
  
"Stop being so melodramatic, Darcy," he said out loud, and bravely got out of the vehicle, marched up to the front door, and knocked.  
  
The butler opened the door. "Mr Darcy," he said solemnly, and led him into the sitting room. Jane sat there alone, obviously nervous. She stood up when he entered. "Mr Darcy." She curtsied.  
  
"Miss Bennet," he replied. "I hope you are in good health?" It was at times like these that he fell back upon silly little questions like that. He could have cursed himself.  
  
"Yes, thank you," she said. "Please sit down."  
  
He felt awkward asking the question they both knew he had come to ask. "Miss Bennet, have you arrived at a decision regarding my aunt and uncle, and your connexion to them?"  
  
Jane looked hesitant. "Sir, I believe I have. Elizabeth, however, is very confused about what she wants to do. She persistently says she will become a governess, or impossible things like that. She is in her bedchamber presently."  
  
"I see," he said, his brow furrowed. He did not really see. "Er – may I ask – why on earth does she want to be a governess?"  
  
Jane rolled her eyes. "She is being very tiresome. She knows she cannot live here for long, and she is scared of going to the Fitzwilliam's, although she doesn't admit it, and has decided that therefore she must be a governess." She blushed. "I apologise for being so forward, but you must understand how it is. She is terrified. When Lizzy is terrified she either faces her problems head-on, or she bluffs her way out of them."  
  
He nodded. "I understand. Do you think – would she come to the sitting room now? I think it would be good to discuss this with both of you present."  
  
Jane got up. "I will go and fetch her."  
  
Darcy sat looking at the rather handsome cuckoo clock for some time. It was a large, mahogany specimen. He followed the hands ticking around – it was about to chime for 8:30 – he counted down, "3, 2, 1..."  
  
BANG! The door flew open and Jane rushed in. The cuckoo chime was lost in the noise. "Mr Darcy!"  
  
He jumped up. "What is it?"  
  
"Lizzy has fled!"  
  
And so Elizabeth had. She was on her way to catch the Post to a friend's house in Bath from where she could doubtless get a job as a governess. She had scribbled a quick note to her sister – 'Dearest Jane, I cannot face the Fitzwilliam's! I am going to a friend. Do not worry about me, I will be safe. I am going to become a governess. I hope you will go to the Fitzwilliam's for I know you want to. All my love, your sister' – and had crept out of the house when no one was watching. She knew it would work, because she had told Jane she had a headache and wanted to rest, and with luck Mr Darcy would keep her occupied until it was too late.  
  
Jane faced Darcy now with tears in her eyes. "The stupid girl! What is to be done?"  
  
"Sit down, Miss Bennet. We will have to think. Of course she must be fetched back." Darcy sat down next to Jane. "Have you any idea where she has gone?"  
  
"Yes and no," said Jane, trembling. "I am sure she has caught the Post. But to where I am not certain. She has a friend in Cambridge who was looking for a governess several weeks ago, and another in Yorkshire. Let me think... there was also one in Brighton, and ... one in Bath."  
  
"Do you know which one it is most likely she has gone to?" Darcy asked, his pulse racing.  
  
Jane thought. "I would say ... Brighton. No! Bath. Lizzy talked about Mrs Neville having several governesses to look for. And Mrs Neville is the closest friend to Lizzy compared to the other possible women." Jane jumped up. "My uncle! I must fetch him!"  
  
"Sit down a moment, Miss Bennet," Darcy said quietly, trying to calm her. "We will call for your uncle soon. So we must assume she has caught the Post for Bath. Now, when did that leave today? It must have been around seven-thirty. Yes, that would be right. So she has been travelling for an hour."  
  
Jane's head was in her hands. "Oh, how unhelpful can you possibly be, Lizzy?" she was saying quietly to herself.  
  
"Do not trouble yourself, Miss Bennet," Darcy said forcefully. "I know what is to be done."  
  
Jane looked up. "What, sir?"  
  
"I will follow her tonight and bring her back."  
  
"Would you?" Jane said joyously.  
  
"Of course," he said. "Now, she is not yet twenty-one, is she?" Jane shook her head. "Good, then there will be no legal problems in bringing her back against her will."  
  
"Sir," Jane said suddenly, as if struck by a point. "I don't know if – that is, I'm not sure if Lizzy will – if she will consent-"  
  
Darcy laughed. "You don't think she will agree to come back with me? Don't worry, Miss Bennet. I can handle her."  
  
Jane didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Thank you so much, sir!"  
  
"Don't thank me until I bring her back," Darcy said, grim again. "I must leave immediately. Goodbye, Miss Bennet."  
  
"Goodbye," said Jane. "I must go and inform my uncle of what is happening. Good luck."  
  
Darcy strode out the door and into the night. He instructed his groom to "spring 'em" and was driving off in an instant.  
  
*****************  
  
Elizabeth sat in the coach clutching her bandbox, looking tentatively at the people around her. There was an old woman opposite who kept a suspicious eye on her, as if she were some convict or slattern trying to corrupt them all. Next to her on the right was a tired mother with two small, noisy children. Elizabeth thought that perhaps she should try to help, now being embarked upon a career as a governess, but decided she should enjoy independence as long as she could – and she was so tired! Next to the old woman across from her was a very nervous man who glanced around them with the look of a trapped hare. And next to him was a middle-aged man with a twisted smile who was eyeing Elizabeth hungrily. She didn't like him. She scowled whenever he looked her way on purpose, but his grin only became wider. So she turned to the left and looked out the window, seeing nothing in the blackness, thinking about what Jane's reaction would be, and wishing more and more that she hadn't come. She felt very alone.  
  
The coach stopped after some time. They must have been driving for two hours, decided Elizabeth. They were at an inn where they would stay the night. Elizabeth got sleepily out of the coach and carried her small amount of baggage inside. She could hardly wait for bed. After standing bleary- eyed for what seemed like hours, the innkeeper pointed her up the stairs to a room, and she trudged up. Just as she opened the door, she felt an arm grope at her shoulder. She woke up at once and spun around.  
  
It was the man from the coach. "Hello, my pretty," he said, grabbing her elbows. Elizabeth was only conscious of a desire to kick and scream, but he had pinned her down on the doorpost and was covering her mouth. 'Oh no, oh no, oh no,' she thought, 'what am I doing here?'  
  
"I've been watching you," the man said, before being knocked to the floor from a blow like a sledgehammer. "Ow!" he cried pathetically and looked up.  
  
"If I wasn't so level-headed," said Mr Darcy in a voice that trembled with anger, "you would be dead now. Get up."  
  
The man stood, clutching his head, shying away from Mr Darcy.  
  
"Leave now. If I see you again you will regret it." The man left and Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet."  
  
Elizabeth was torn between admiration, embarrassment and annoyance. She looked at the floor.  
  
"Why are you here?" he said in a tired voice.  
  
She looked up. "I should think it's obvious from my letter, sir! I am going to become a governess."  
  
"No," he said, "why are you here?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed and the truth fell out. "Because I'm too scared of becoming a Fitzwilliam."  
  
"I thought so," said Darcy. "However, you must believe me when I say that becoming a governess is much more frightening than becoming a Fitzwilliam. I have come to take you back."  
  
Elizabeth was annoyed. "Have you? Well, I am afraid you have no jurisdiction over me, sir!"  
  
"No, I don't, but you will come back with me whether I do or not, Miss Bennet," Darcy said. "Do you know how worried your sister is? I would have thought you would act your age rather than being so impossibly juvenile that your only option is running away!"  
  
She was a little humbled. "I am sorry," she said in a whisper.  
  
He smiled. "Don't trouble yourself. Are you tired?"  
  
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Well then, we will stay here tonight. I must warn you that there is no point in running away again."  
  
"I wouldn't," she said. "I am very ashamed of myself."  
  
"It's a mistake that can be easily fixed," he said gently.  
  
"Thank you for coming."  
  
"Goodnight, Miss Bennet."  
  
"Goodnight." She shut the door and flopped down on her bed, groaning at herself. She was so embarrassed. Again, she had been the tempestuous child, acting before she had thought. He must think her so rude and thoughtless, after last April's wild accusations when he had proposed, and now, running away. It was something Elizabeth had never considered before. She was so ashamed. She felt as immature as Lydia or Kitty. She couldn't stop thinking about it.  
  
But sleep overcame her thoughts after a while, and Elizabeth slept until later than usual the next morning. She went downstairs, yawning slightly, and entered the inn parlour. Mr Darcy stood up from the breakfast table at her arrival. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. Did you sleep well?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, thank you." She sat down at the small square table and looked around. "Has the Post left?"  
  
"Yes," said Darcy. "I informed them that you were a runaway and they left without you."  
  
"Did you?" she cried, mortified.  
  
His eyes twinkled. "No. I thought you should recognise teasing when you heard it, Miss Bennet. You being so experienced at it."  
  
"A hit acknowledged, sir," Elizabeth said, smiling reluctantly. "What did you tell them?"  
  
"Merely that I was your brother, that we had met completely by accident here, and that you therefore changed your plans to go to Bath as your first design in going to Bath was to see me."  
  
"Oh, very clever," said Elizabeth. "And so you avoided scandal." After a moment, she spoke again in a softer tone. "Thank you very much."  
  
"It's a pleasure," he said, watching her carefully. They both suddenly felt a little embarrassed, and looked away. "It's a comfortable inn," he commented.  
  
"Yes," she said vaguely, not quite knowing to what she was replying.  
  
"Will you be ready to leave in an hour or so?" he asked.  
  
"I can leave to the minute, if you desire it," she said. "My luggage is entirely complete."  
  
"Good," he said, and devoted himself to his coffee, feeling the awkwardness of the intimate setting even more.  
  
As for Elizabeth, she couldn't help feeling the same. 'This is how it would have been should I not have refused his proposal in Kent,' she thought. 'I should be eating breakfast with him quite naturally, travelling with him as a matter of course... This is all too strange.'  
  
"We will not travel in all speed back to London," he said. "My horses are tired, so we must take things slowly. I sent a message to your sister first thing this morning, so she will not worry."  
  
Elizabeth wasn't quite sure she liked his authoritative manner, but didn't feel in a position to challenge this. After all, he had a very good reason for saying what he did. She nodded and sipped her tea quietly.  
  
***************** 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
Elizabeth watched the countryside with interest. She had not seen anything on her ill-fated journey on the Post as it had been dark outside. Mr Darcy watched her with interest. Her handsome, intelligent eyes were focussed out the window, taking everything in. She looked very pretty in a tan pelisse, clutching a brown bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons, and her cheeks were slightly rosy. She looked at him suddenly, unblushingly. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"  
  
"Yes," he agreed, shifting his attention to the countryside, which, he had to admit, he had not thought of at all since leaving the inn with Elizabeth. They were quiet for a time. "Miss Bennet."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Will you meet your family?"  
  
"Yes," said Elizabeth, "I rather think I will."  
  
"I am pleased."  
  
"I have really been rather foolish. Indeed, what did I have to fear? I have met your aunt – er – my mother, and ... my brother the Colonel, and I know Rosalind is lovely."  
  
"Yes, she is a good girl," said Darcy, "but you will not believe what a chatterbox she can be." He laughed softly, an affectionate look on his face, and Elizabeth, on seeing it, marvelled again at how badly she had misjudged him. He spoke again. "You may have some idea of it, however?"  
  
"Yes," smiled Elizabeth. "I must say I have noticed she is very talkative. But I like it. She is not a vapid chatterbox."  
  
"No, without question. Rosalind is very intelligent."  
  
"Sir..." asked Elizabeth slowly.  
  
"Yes?" he prompted when she paused.  
  
"Will you tell me what they are like?" she said timidly. "I know Rosalind and the Colonel well enough – I do not know the others."  
  
Darcy smiled. "I will try." He paused, gazing out the window. "My cousin, your father, is a very good man. He is friendly and open and has not an ounce of snobbishness about him – an unusual thing for a man of his status, although I must admit he had a humble upbringing which may have caused this. He has very strong morals, strong philanthropic leanings, and a sense of humour which I am sure you will approve of. He is very attached to his family.  
  
"Your mother is ... well, I find it hard to describe her. You must not think she is unstable, or volatile, but she does tend to become more emotionally involved with everything going on around her, and she does not have the same calm, detached judgement your father has." He looked at Elizabeth carefully, who was drinking all this in. "She is very affectionate and very generous, and since my sister Georgiana and I have been more in the Fitzwilliams' company, she has recently become almost a mother to Georgiana, whose mother died when she was still young.  
  
"Thomas, the eldest of their children, is a lot like his father. He is very sensible. He is very protective, like a rock, I suppose – anyone can lean on him for support and be sure he will not let them fall. His interest is in the church, but he will not become a clergyman, as his father's title passes to him. I know that he is very fond of Rosalind, although sometimes she puts him on the path to Bedlam, predictably. But he is the perfect big brother."  
  
They were silent for several moments. "Thank you," said Elizabeth calmly.  
  
"Miss Bennet, I know you will not regret meeting your parents and joining their family again," he said cautiously. "They are the type of people that would make anyone feel part of the family, and as you really are ... well, all I can say is that they truly would care for you."  
  
Elizabeth nodded. She managed to smile at him. "You have been so kind."  
  
He shook his head. "No, Miss Bennet-"  
  
"Never contradict a lady, sir," she said, with a touch of her normal sense of humour. "You _have _been kind, and I won't forget it."  
  
For a moment it looked like he was going to seize her hand and kiss it – but the moment passed, and they both looked out the window.

  
  
It was an exciting day for Lady Lockwood. First of all she had seen Miss Ingrid Blenheim, the latest Belle, wearing a new bonnet with velvet blue ribbons and riding in Lord Richmond's phaeton. Then she had seen a mad dog attack a horse at Hyde Park, and the subsequent murder of the canine in question, which was, admittedly, not quite the most exciting gossip around, but did have some value as an event she could later relate in conversation should the circumstances allow. Thirdly, Lady Lockwood had bumped into Mrs Palmer, still wearing black ribbons for her husband, on the arm of Sir Edward Russell. Fourthly, Lady Lockwood had heard from Mrs Jennings, in the _strictest _confidence, who had heard from Mrs Beaufort, that that young Miss Featherstone was with child and being bundled away to the country before a scandal could arise.  
  
And fifthly, Lady Matlock and her daughter had been seen shopping with two mystery girls. The elder – she guessed it must be – was a very pretty girl, despite her countrified attire, with a beatific countenance and blonde hair, and the younger was pretty, although her sister surpassed her, with hair about the same colour as Lady Rosalind Fitzwilliam's, and bright, intelligent eyes. Lady Lockwood could barely contain her curiosity. They seemed to get along together tolerably well, and were less restrained with each other than casual acquaintance could warrant – Lady Lockwood actually heard Lady Matlock calling one of the girls by their Christian name – Jane. This was all very interesting; perhaps they were some sort of cousins, and if at all connected to the Fitzwilliam family, they were bound to be rich or important in some way. They were sure to cause a stir, especially the elder. Lady Lockwood scuttled cheerfully off to find some other middle-aged woman to impart her new knowledge to and to form all manner of conjectures with.  
  
It did not take long for the entire Beau Monde to be buzzing about the two mystery girls. The Fitzwilliam family were not at home to any visitors except family for a whole week and a half, and Lady Lockwood was one of only several people who claimed to have sighted any of the Fitzwilliams outside their home. The neighbours on Brook Street saw nothing peculiar, except Mr Darcy and his sister visiting a little more often than ordinary, and staying longer, and a few tradesmen coming in and out sometimes. Bets were being placed at the gaming halls on who the girls were; numerous enquiries were being made at public libraries for books which might tell of the family connections of the Fitzwilliam family and which could include the name 'Jane'; all the bored women in London were suddenly coming alive with unbearable curiosity.  
  
The true, non-conjectured story was this; that Jane and Elizabeth had gone to the Fitzwilliams very soon after Elizabeth returned from her short-lived sojourn to Bath. They had decided to remain Jane and Elizabeth, although their surnames were to be changed, and they had found that all Mr Darcy told them of their real family had been true. Of course, things were awkward at first.  
  
Darcy came to Cheapside in his carriage on the day Jane and Elizabeth were due to depart the Gardiners. They were calm, and said goodbye to their aunt and uncle calmly, and got into the carriage calmly. It was only as they drove away that Jane started to grip Elizabeth's hand tightly. They came to the Matlock mansion, and walked inside staring at the floor, or anywhere other than the magnificent entrance hall, and into the parlour where their parents and siblings waited silently. It was almost amusing for Darcy watching the two parts of the family meet. For several moments there was an awkward silence as the mother and father stared at their two eldest daughters, and then Lady Matlock rushed forward to embrace them. "Oh, oh, my dears," she said, tears storming the floodbanks of her eyes, "you don't know how happy it makes me to see you! And you know you still look like yourselves, I would have recognised that face anywhere, Lara – Jane? Oh, I'm so confused – what do you want me to call you?" Both sisters paused, and looked at each other carefully. "Of course you want to stay Jane and Elizabeth," said their mother firmly. "Don't worry yourself over it at all, you will stay yourselves."  
  
"I must confess I would feel more comfortable," said Jane shyly, returning her mother's embrace.  
  
"And you?" said Lady Matlock, turning to the younger. "What may I call you?"  
  
Elizabeth paused thoughtfully. "I would rather be Elizabeth, if it's all the same to you. I think Vivian a very pretty name, but it would honestly feel very peculiar."  
  
And so they stayed the same, but different now. They were to be Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth Fitzwilliam. That change was enough to cope with. Their father came forward also, to kiss their cheeks with the warm smile he was famous for on his face. "I am very happy also," he said. "I hope you can be comfortable with us very soon. I know you must find this difficult."  
  
"We are happy," Jane assured him, her smile becoming wider as she grew more comfortable.  
  
"You must meet your sister and brothers," said Lady Matlock, guiding the three forward. "Thomas, Richard and Rosalind. I know you have already met Richard and Rosalind, Elizabeth."  
  
"I hope this is a good thing," said Lord Matlock teasingly.  
  
It was his remark that broke the ice most effectively that day. Almost immediately the whole family began to laugh, and the meeting between the five siblings was perfectly comfortable in every particular. Elizabeth found it very helpful that she already knew Rosalind. "Hello, Rosalind," she said, simply.  
  
"Hello, Elizabeth," Rosalind replied. "I suppose this was not the manner in which you next expected to meet me?"  
  
Elizabeth laughed easily. "I suppose it was not." She was mock-serious for a moment. "Do you think you can manage having two sisters?"  
  
Rosalind sighed, pretending to think about it. "Well, I will have to try," she said. "Of course I don't want you. However, there is not a lot I can do about it."  
  
"Now, now, Rosalind," said her father, "don't be too happy to see them."  
  
Elizabeth joined in the laughter. She had not thought it would be as relatively easy as this.  
  
Darcy came to her now. "Miss Elizabeth, I – I mean, Miss – Cousin..."  
  
"You have brought up our first problem," said Richard. "What you are to call each other. You can hardly be Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth and Mr Darcy anymore. What do you think, Darcy?"  
  
"Well, what does Rosalind call me?" he replied, quite sensibly.  
  
"Mr Darcy when she is stiff, Cousin when she wants something, and Fitzwilliam when she is being rude," Thomas replied with a laugh, smiling at Jane who had been in conversation with him. Rosalind poked her tongue out at him when her mother was looking the other way.  
  
"Let it be Cousin, then," said Elizabeth, provoking yet more laughter. When she was more serious however, she continued. "No, I think I shall have to continue calling you Mr Darcy. I am in too much awe of you to call you anything less."  
  
"I think the more difficult question is what I may call you!" he replied, smiling. "What do you wish me to call you? For you will be Ladies now, you know. You could be Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth. Or I could call you Cousin Jane and Cousin Elizabeth."  
  
"Cousin Jane," said Jane as Elizabeth mischievously answered, "My Lady Elizabeth, of course."  
  
"Very well, Cousin Jane," said Darcy, ignoring Elizabeth's smile. "Cousin it shall be, my Lady Elizabeth – that is the first and last time I will call you that."  
  
"Very well," sighed Elizabeth, as if she were very upset. "But I warn you, Cousin –"  
  
Lord and Lady Matlock looked at each other bemusedly as she continued. They had not seen Darcy on so easy terms with any woman other than Georgiana and Rosalind before.  
  
Jane and Elizabeth were shown to their rooms by Lady Matlock and Rosalind. It was slightly more awkward in the more intimate setting of a bedroom rather than the parlour of a great house. "We have put you two next to each other, and Rosalind is a few doors down the hall," said their mother, "because we don't want you to feel alone in this big house – and I suppose in the family. Your father and I certainly hope you'll feel like one of us as soon as possible, and we'll all try our hardest to help you fit in, but we understand it may not be the sort of thing which is done in an instant. Come in here, Jane – this is your room."  
  
Jane felt rather overpowered by the elegance of the large, blue room. "It is very nice," she said, gazing around it at the tapestries and the large, curtained bed and the fashionable furniture without one dent or scratch in it.  
  
"I do hope you'll get used to it," said her mother very anxiously.  
  
Jane smiled. "I'm sure I will."  
  
"And this is your room, Elizabeth," said Lady Matlock, leading them into a smaller room. "It is not as large as Jane's, but you have adjoining dressing rooms, and we thought you would like that."  
  
"It is a beautiful room, and I wouldn't care if it were as small as a pinbox or as large as the ocean," said Elizabeth fervently, admiring the colours, and the taste that was evident throughout the room. "It's lovely."

_I edited this chapter with your suggestions in mind, changing Lara and Vivian back to plain Jane and Elizabeth. Thanks a lot for your comments, they are very helpful. _


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The Fitzwilliams chose to keep their delicious secret for as long as possible. The whole town would doubtless swamp their two daughters as soon as it was known, and they didn't want to put the girls through that until they were a little more settled. But it was obvious that the town had somehow recognised something unusual about the situation. Lady Matlock had seen Lady Lockwood, a notorious gossip, about town when she took the girls out shopping. And now half of London was knocking at their door trying to find out who the girls were. Someone had even had the audacity to ask the butler who the visitors were, but Simson simply smiled and told them that _that_ was privileged information. A remark guaranteed to make the plums of Society writhe in anger, coming from a butler. He probably should not have, Lord Matlock said, but he was extremely grateful to him for it, anyway.

But after a week and a half, when the family tired of hiding in their house, apart from the brief shopping trip, it was decided that London should hear the news. It was difficult deciding _how_ exactly. The newspaper was a possibility, but it was decided that was a little vulgar – as if they were contributing to the gossip panel or something of the sort. Richard suggested they tell Lady Lockwood and the whole town would know within two minutes, give or take a few seconds. He was not too offended when his suggestion was pooh-poohed.

Lady Matlock finally had a semi-feasible idea. "We will throw a party," she suggested. "Invite people to meet the long-lost Fitzwilliam daughters. It will be your London coming-out ball, girls. The invitations will be the announcements; of course we'll be overrun with visitors over the next week or so, but there's really nothing we can do about that. It is a much more refined way of introducing you than advertising it in a newspaper. I must say I would feel rather queasy going about it in such a way."

"That's not a ridiculous idea, Cecilia," said Lord Matlock. "In fact, it would be just the thing. What do you think, Jane? Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth's eyes were shining, but Jane looked nervous. "To be honest, the thought terrifies me – but I know it has to be done. Go ahead, if you wish, it is the best suggestion so far."

And so royally handsome invitations were sent around London. Anyone who was anyone received one, and the secret was out. _You are cordially invited to the coming-out ball of Lady Lara (Jane) Fitzwilliam and Lady Vivian (Elizabeth) Fitzwilliam – formerly Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, restored recently to their birth parents._

It was the news of the year for Lady Lockwood. Her mouth was so tired by the time she got home that her rather mild-mannered husband couldn't help but ask her if she was feeling quite well when she flopped on the sofa and said no more than, "The most amazing news, my dear! The Fitzwilliams have two long-lost daughters!"

As for the rest of London, there was hardly anyone who could help but be interested. The fortune hunters rejoiced in new heiresses; the ladies of fashion were buzzing, especially those who had scorned Jane and Elizabeth at that assembly and were informed now of who they were; Miss Bingley was furious. Even the highest brother of Brummell who usually did not incline himself to gossip was prepared to lose a little dignity and find out all about them, and was quite prepared to come to the ball. The dandies were fizzing with excitement; two new heiresses who were patently good-looking, or so they had been told, could not but bring high hopes, at the very least.

Mr Bingley was one who had a mixed reaction. As one who had been a friend _before_ the revelations, he couldn't help but be pleased that the Bennet girls had achieved a place in society that they deserved and needed. But this characteristic of his led many to him to inquire about the two new Fitzwilliam girls. Mr Bingley became sought after for his knowledge of them, a circumstance that brought him no joy as it became slowly clear to him the influence Jane and Elizabeth would now have, the height to which they had risen, and in particular the number of men who now viewed Jane – and Elizabeth, of course – as prospective wives. He was worried for her – them. Jane could not really be rationally thought of as anything but constant, but this was a period in which his imagination did Jane much injustice. As a handsome and middlingly rich man, he did admit to himself that he did have a fair chance with her, and an advantage no one else could have, but as a man who had yielded to persuasion from external forces before, he now found it easier to yield to internal forces that insisted her new superiority and the inconstancy that would subsequently come from this. He told himself that women, though often very faithful, found it easy to submit to flattery and the like; that a woman like Jane who was as beautiful as an angel could not possibly be unswayed by the devotion of men ten times as handsome and consequential than he; that already Jane could have forgotten him. He felt morose and tired and dejected.

Of course, Jane hardly stopped thinking of him. She wondered why he did not come to visit. Surely he must know he was welcome even if most of the town was not? She did not speak of this but Elizabeth guessed her feelings.

They saw Mr Darcy a lot. It pleased Elizabeth to see him. However, she did not feel she could ever be quite comfortable in his presence, after her embarrassing behaviour the night she ran away; besides, her feelings were becoming stronger for him and she constantly felt his eyes upon her and did not know how to stand or sit or talk to best advantage. She certainly chided herself for it, oh yes – "Elizabeth Fitzwilliam, to think that you are becoming this foolish! He is only a man!" – but there was a nervousness about her that she had never experienced before.

Elizabeth and Jane had the most beautiful dresses for the ball. Their mother did not want them to wear anything too sumptuous, and, as usual, her taste paid off. The dresses were among the most elegant anybody could see, yet understated; expensive yet not flashy. Jane's was pure white entirely. Subsequently she looked even more like an angel, the only colour in her whole body being slightly pink cheeks and lips, and those rusty gold curls. Elizabeth's however was a dark, burgundy red. This suited her brown locks perfectly and she looked both charming and mischievous. Rosalind too had a new dress which she apparently hated because it was so special she couldn't racket about in it in her usual way without tearing a hem or ripping a waistline. She complained about it constantly, but Jane caught her trying on the pink dress in front of the mirror one evening, admiring herself, and from then on always laughed whenever Rosalind tried to make people believe she despised dressing up.

On the evening of the ball, the family had tea together. Darcy came along early also, as one of the family. He brought his apologies for poor Georgiana, who had arrived in town just that morning but was feeling not at all well, and was staying at home in bed. Jane and Elizabeth were unhappy not to meet her yet. However, they were palpably nervous and could not think about much in one continuous string. Darcy sat silently next to Elizabeth on the sopha while Rosalind and the Countess chattered nervously and while Jane sat talking to Thomas. Elizabeth could think of nothing to talk of other than the weather. Suddenly Darcy turned to her. "Cousin Elizabeth? Would you do me the honour of reserving for me the first two dances?"

Elizabeth was surprised; she had forgotten entirely about dancing. "Of course," she said, smiling suddenly. "I would be very happy to, Cousin."

A sudden smile lit up his formerly rather anxious-looking face. "Thank you."

She felt a little shy suddenly. "I – I am sorry not to meet your sister yet, Cousin."

"So is she, I assure you," he said, with a slight smile. "She is exceedingly upset that she cannot come tonight, but it is a mark of how unwell she feels that she admits it is impossible. Poor thing! She would have loved to be here. I have told her so much about you that she was so looking forward to the meeting."

"She sounds very sweet," said Elizabeth. She looked at her hands clenched in her lap for a moment. "Oh, Mr Darcy, are you not very nervous?"

He grinned. "Probably not as much as you; I am not to be the object of so much attention as you and your sister will inevitably receive. But I must confess that I am anxious _for_ you. I hope you will not find yourself too overwhelmed."

"Stop, pray, Cousin!" laughed Elizabeth, feeling unaccountably more light-hearted as a result of his speech. "This is hardly conversation to encourage me!"

He smiled too. "I apologise, Cousin. I am sure things will not be so hard for you tonight." He looked earnest, and took her hand. "But please – if things do become too much – you will always find me ready to help you. Not just tonight; in any situation. If you ever need just to get out of the house, or visit the Gardiners, or anything little like that, you can always depend on me to take you in my carriage, or something like that. And any big problems you may stumble into – well, I am always ready to listen to you and try to help you, no matter what, Elizabeth." He spoke her name as if it were a caress.

She couldn't smile. She was too touched. "Thank you, Cousin."

"It makes me very happy to see you and my cousin Jane fitting so well into this family," he said, uncharacteristically talkative. "I am sure you can tell that I have always felt very close to the Fitzwilliams and it gives me great pleasure to see them made so happy by your return. Do you feel quite comfortable with them?"

"Yes, I do," she said, blushing. "I cannot believe I was so silly as to-"

He held up his hand. "Don't think about it, Elizabeth. That's all in the past."

"You have been very kind to me, Cousin," Elizabeth whispered.

He paused. "Will you not call me William?"

She blushed, and was about to answer, when Lord Matlock came into the room, announcing that it was time to start welcoming guests. Everyone got up hurriedly; in the sudden chaos of voices, Mr Darcy took the chance to whisper to Elizabeth with a grin, "Don't forget – mine are the first two dances!"

She grinned back excitedly.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Jane and Elizabeth stood with their parents at the top of the stairs, welcoming people. It was rather – to use Mr Darcy's words – overwhelming. Elizabeth was still flushed from her conversation with Darcy and was not feeling quite lucid enough to begin meeting people and trying to remember names. But the demands of her rôle soon woke her up, as face after face shook hands first with her parents, then with Jane, then with her.

Jane was playing her part very well indeed. She was naturally excited about the ball – not so much because it was a ball or because she would meet people or because she liked dressing up – but because she knew that tonight she would see Mr Bingley. So it was that she looked extremely beautiful. Nothing became Jane like that quiet excitement of hers. She was animated and charming as she was introduced to people, even if she did gaze expectantly over their heads at the door now and then. She was pronounced by all who passed her to be a lovely girl, perfect in every way.

Elizabeth could never make quite so flawless an impression as Jane could. It was not merely her appearance; her sense of humour was too fine to be so perfectly agreeable to everyone who walked in the door as Jane was. And yet she was in very good looks that evening in her burgundy-coloured dress, her eyes shining as always, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her hair most elegantly arranged. Although some found her not quite so respectful as her sister, most were very favourably impressed by her. In fact, she was preferred by several men to her sister, for the sparkling personality that was obvious to all on first sight, and for her darker beauty.

One of the people to pass the sisters whose name they actually did remember was a girl with chestnut hair and twinkling eyes. Elizabeth remembered her in an instant. "I know who you are!" she exclaimed, on introduction to Miss Claudia Trent. "You're the girl we saw at the Assembly Rooms!" And Jane agreed at once.

Miss Trent through back head and laughed. "I did hope you would recognise me!" she smiled. "I had wanted to meet you that evening but for some reason, our liaison never eventuated. It is very good to meet you properly now."

Elizabeth was very pleased to see Miss Trent again. She had not thought about the girl who had defended them such a long time ago – or, at least, it seemed like a long time! But she remembered at the time feeling a peculiar affinity with the girl and wanting to know her better.

Just after Miss Trent left them, Mr Bingley walked in the door. Jane's eyes turned to him at once. He had come feeling depressed and bitter; certain of the pain of seeing Jane captivated by every other man in the building. But even he could not misinterpret the happy gleam in Jane's eyes when she saw him and the wide smile and "Hello! I am _so_ happy to see you!" with which she greeted his "Good evening, Lady Fitzwilliam." He felt his depression shrug itself off him like a slippery cloak, and responded in kind.

The Gardiners, Mary, Kitty and Lydia came to the ball. It was very good to see them again. Elizabeth found she had even missed Lydia's frivolous chatter and Mary's moralising, although both girls seemed to have improved somewhat since their last meeting, for some reason.

Elizabeth and Jane found themselves almost immediately engaged for every dance, which was really quite thrilling. Elizabeth felt like a little girl at her first coming-out dance again; everyone so eager to be kind to her and make sure she was having a good time. She had been engaged to dance with Mr Darcy again for the final dance, when he saw how fast her hand was being claimed, and he asked Jane to dance also. It was odd, seeing the tables so completely turned from what they had been at her first meeting with Mr Darcy.

She felt oddly excited as she danced the first dance with Darcy. Every time he touched her, she felt like shivering, although she tried her hardest to keep her body under check – yet this was a pleasure. He looked as proud as ever. Many people could be overheard saying what a handsome couple they made and wondering certain things; being gossiped about was never a recipe for his good humour, and Elizabeth understood this. Yet he had a small smile in his eyes whenever he looked her way. She found herself rather guiltily looking forward to her next dance with him, which was a _waltz._ She had never danced one of these at a ball before, even though she was perfectly familiar with the steps, like any self-respecting girl of the times, and she had certainly never danced a waltz in the arms of a man she felt so excited by as Darcy.

Their dance seemed to be over far too quickly. She was approached by many people as Darcy led her off the floor, and she found herself being pushed from his side all too quickly. She stole a quick look at her dance card and wondered who on earth was Mr Chalder. She hoped she would not make a fool of herself. But the said gentleman approached her soon after the first dance. "Good evening. I'm Chalder. I booked the next dance with you?"

"Of course!" she said with a glittering smile.

He grinned, raising dark brows. "It's perfectly fine, I don't expect you to remember my name. These things are always just a little overwhelming, are they not?"

She smiled, feeling more at ease at once. "Yes, well, to tell the truth, I had no idea who you were, but I will certainly remember your name now."

He laughed. "Good. I see you were dancing with Darcy. He is a good friend of mine."

She brightened. "Is he? How is it that you know him?"

"How does anyone know anyone in London?" shrugged Mr Chalder. "I apologise, but I could not truthfully tell you how I met him. All I know is that we have been friends for too long a time."

Elizabeth laughed again, and studied him. This was a friend of Darcy's! He was certainly very agreeable. It was so amusing to find out more about Darcy every day. She would never have expected him to be friends with a man like this a few months before.

The hours seemed to run quite slowly until the time of her waltz with Darcy. They had dinner at some point; she was partnered for dinner with Richard, because Georgiana had not come, and Jane was partnered with Darcy. Both sisters were still very much awake, and hardly feeling the exhaustion of constant dancing or socialising at all. However, Jane almost felt the obligation to feel some tiredness, the number of times Mr Bingley solicitously asked after her wellbeing.

The one incident that served to pull Elizabeth out of her absorbed mien was as follows. A woman approached Elizabeth soon after dinner whose name she could remember perfectly, for some reason – Mrs Gloria Bowhill. She was a tall woman, obviously past her prime, but not exactly out of sight of it either. On first sight of her, Elizabeth was not disposed to think very well of her, and it is probable this feeling did not change. She had a sharp little face with very clever but not very pleasant eyes, and an angular body that looked strange in a pretty ballgown. "Good evening, Lady Elizabeth! Do you know my name?"

"Yes, I do, it is Mrs Bowhill, is it not?" said Elizabeth, a little taken aback by the manner in which the lady asked her question.

"I am overcome," said Mrs Bowhill, studying Elizabeth's gown, looking rather bored. "I see you were dancing with Darcy earlier?"

"Er, yes," said Elizabeth, trying to stop the blush rising to her cheeks. Mrs Bowhill said it as if it were something to be ashamed of.

Mrs Bowhill smiled slightly. "You two were quite a sight. Good evening, Lady Elizabeth!"

"Good evening," Elizabeth muttered, feeling a little annoyed.

Eventually the time came for Elizabeth's long-awaited waltz – the final dance of the night. She was conscious of feeling a strong anticipation when Darcy's gloved hand seized hers and led her out onto the dance floor. In fact, she was breathing so deeply that Darcy asked her if she was feeling quite the thing. It was in a slight panic that she managed to convince him that she was _perfectly fine_ and _wanted_ to dance with him, and through a strong effort, she managed to control herself. He smiled at her in a reassuring way which almost set her off again, and he reached for her as the music began. She did not think she breathed much during the dance. The light touch of his hand on her waist made her light-headed, but it was the way his eyes rested warmly on her constantly that really destroyed any semblance of reason that she had been holding on to. The only thought that was going through her head was, "What on _earth_ was wrong with me! I am in love with him. In love in love in love."

She tried to appear normal as he escorted her back to the side of the room at the end of the dance, but she _had_ to keep stealing glances at him. He looked slightly concerned. He sat down with her on a sopha and looked at her seriously. Her mind was in a torment.

"Tell me, Cousin, have I offended you?"

"W-what?" she said dreamily, then clicked. "What! No! No! In what possible way could you offend me?"

"You seemed… different as we danced. Are you sure I have not offended you in any way?"

Elizabeth pulled herself together. "No, Cousin! Of course you have not. I enjoyed dancing with you… very much."

He smiled, took her hand and kissed it. "I am glad, for I would hate myself if had I done anything to hurt you."

"Cousin-"

"William," he said. "Remember? We agreed!"

"I wouldn't say that!" she laughed. "I never agreed to such a proposition in my life."

"Will you agree now?"

"Not now," she said, smiling mischievously. "You will have to grovel for a long time before I allow you any such favour."

"You silly girl," he smiled.

"That is not a good way to start," she reminded him. She stood up. "I am going to go and talk to someone else now."

He sat back in the chair. "Am I supposed to be chastened? Far from it! Have fun!"

Elizabeth laughed, and went to find Miss Trent. For some reason she had not managed to talk to the girl she so wanted to become friends with all night. But she found her relatively easily, and sat down beside her at once. "Hello again, Miss Trent!"

She was met with a smile. "Why, good evening, Lady Elizabeth!"

For a moment, Elizabeth was confused. "Goodness, is that me? Please, _please _don't call me that! You must call me Elizabeth. I cannot be a 'Lady' to people like you, no matter what."

"Well, then you must call me Claudia. I have been anxious to talk to you all night, Elizabeth."

"As have I!" said Elizabeth fervently. "I never thought I would say so, but there are only so many inanities one can utter to people one has never met before. I knew it would be different with you."

"Thank you," said Claudia, looking much amused. "I have my bad points, but I believe I am pretty safe from being inane." She leaned forward. "I saw you dancing with Mr Darcy before. Do you know him well?" Elizabeth blushed. "I see you do, then!"

Elizabeth was hasty to correct her. "Well, in technicalities I have known him for a while, but I did not really truthfully know him very well until a month or so ago."

Claudia raised her eyebrows. "You both seem very comfortable with each other."

"We have been thrown in each other's ways a lot recently," said Elizabeth awkwardly.

"Oh," said Claudia, looking interested. But she changed the subject. "Do you play music, or have any outstanding accomplishments, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, I am vastly accomplished," said Elizabeth, mock-serious. "No, you are aware I am jesting. I play the piano but I never practise enough so really I _can _play piano in the _pouvoir _sense more than the _savoir_ sense! And those are about the two French words I know. But I did learn some Italian."

"I am glad to hear it," said Claudia. "One can never be sure when one will need those Italian words." Both girls laughed.

"Will you come around to visit us tomorrow?" asked Elizabeth. "We would be very happy to see you."

"I would enjoy that very much, thank you," said Claudia, smiling warmly. "That was very timely, because my aunt is beckoning me now that she desires us to leave. It was very pleasant to meet you again, Elizabeth. I will see you tomorrow – not too early, however!"

Elizabeth smiled. "No, I don't think you will see much of us up early! Goodbye!"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen 

Although Elizabeth did not feel she had made much of an effort, nor met many people properly, the ball was pronounced a success. Jane had danced twice with Mr Bingley, and obtained his promise that he would come and visit very soon, so she was completely satisfied. The Earl and Countess had succeeded in pulling it off without a glitch (unless you count Miss Grant falling into a dead faint halfway through proceedings, but they were inclined to regard that mainly as an unfortunate incident which did not mar the ball as a whole in any way). Richard had flirted incorrigibly, Thomas had met an old school friend whom he had been wishing to see for a while and had even flirted a little too, Rosalind had danced with an unbearably good-looking man, as she told Elizabeth later. As for Elizabeth, the waltz with Darcy was the stamp of perfection on the whole ball and nothing could have ruined that.

She hardly knew how to act around him now that she knew herself to be in love with him. It was most embarrassing. She kept doing silly things that she would never have done usually, and she did not know why.

Claudia came around to visit in the late morning of the day after the ball. Elizabeth met her with outstretched arms and a big smile. "Good morning! How are you?"

Claudia couldn't help but smile. "I'm only just awake, but it's good to see you!"

"Will you come into the sitting room? My parents have gone out and everyone else is still in bed. Heaven knows why. It's such a lovely day."

Claudia smiled. "I collect that you are a morning person."

"I suppose," said Elizabeth thoughtfully, "but I wouldn't say I'm not a night person either. You, I presume, are a night person?"

"Through and through. Listen, Elizabeth, I hear you come from Hertfordshire?"

"Yes."

"So do I! Not twenty miles away from what I am told is your village – Meryton, is it?"

"Oh, lovely!" said Elizabeth. "I do like people from Hertfordshire. What was your parish?"

"Stonewood. I own that I do still think it the best place in the world. I have travelled on the Continent, you know, and around England extensively as well, but there's nowhere like my childhood home." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I have no brother, and when my parents died, Trent Manor was entailed onto a distant cousin who dislikes me, for some absurd reason, so I have not been able to visit for some time."

"Oh no!" cried Elizabeth, her heart kindling in support. "My home, Longbourn, was also entailed outside my immediate family – that is, my adoptive family, the Bennets. I think I will be able to visit sometimes, but I am sure it would be painful for me."

"I am glad you understand," smiled Claudia. "So many people have no idea how special a tiny little manor of no remarkable importance is to someone who has grown up in it."

"I agree," said Elizabeth firmly. She paused. "I am sorry to hear your parents are dead. Do you have much family?"

"I live with my aunt, as I am sure you gathered last night. She is a widow without children, and I have only one first cousin alive whom I have never met. I do not have sisters either." She saw that Elizabeth was looking sad. "Oh, do not feel bad for me! I do not feel the absence of family at all. My aunt has a lot of friends who serve as uncles and aunts to me, and I have several very good friends who are closer to me than siblings ever could be."

"I am pleased to hear that," said Elizabeth, smiling. "I do not know, personally, how I would manage without Jane, so of course anyone without a sister has my full sympathy at first!"

"You are lucky to have discovered another family," said Claudia. "It must be very pleasing for you to have had two pairs of good parents, many good siblings, and extended family like Mr Darcy on top of that!"

"I had not thought of it like that before," admitted Elizabeth. "Sometimes I make myself feel so guilty because, you know, it can feel a little like I am betraying my adoptive parents who brought me up. But really I _am_ very lucky." She smiled, and gave a little shrug. "How often is it that one is given _two_ loving families?"

Claudia smiled. "I almost feel jealous, except that I am sure I would make so much trouble if ever I were plonked into some poor family, thinking they were getting some good, docile, long-lost daughter and finding they were given me."

Elizabeth couldn't help laughing. "I feel it couldn't be quite so extreme! I own, I didn't think I would be quite well-behaved enough for an earl's family, but the funny thing is, we all have our similarities. Richard and Rosalind are so much sillier than me. At least, that is what I tell them!"

"I am very glad that you seem to have settled in with the Fitzwilliams so well," said Claudia, smiling warmly. "I know that seems an odd thing to say, but when I discovered that it was _that _girl at _that_ Assembly that was one of the long-lost Fitzwilliam daughters, I hoped even more that you would be very happy."

"Thank you very much," said Elizabeth warmly. "Indeed, everything is much easier than I had thought it would be. My family is very kind to Jane and I. It was not that I did not think they would be but I was nervous, all the same."

Claudia Trent left after another half hour of talking. Elizabeth was very happy to have made such a good friend already. It was much more than she had expected. She sat down on the window seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the sun streaming in. "I wonder if he is coming today?" she whispered to herself. After a few moments' frantic thought, she decided he must be, if Georgiana was herself again, and then they would be able to meet his sister. She settled back on her seat, feeling warm and happy and excited. Anticipation of pleasantness had to be one of the best feelings in the world, she thought cheerfully.

To her surprise, the door opened and Simson announced in his butler-voice, as Rosalind called it, "Mrs. Bowhill."

Elizabeth jumped up in surprise. "Why, good morning, Mrs Bowhill!"

"Good morning, Lady Elizabeth," said Mrs Bowhill, with a thin smile. "I hope you are well after the rigours of last night?"

"Yes, quite well, thank you." She wondered why the woman was here.

"It must be very good to see so much of Mr Darcy."

Elizabeth was confused. "Er, yes."

Mrs Bowhill smiled. "You two were a sight last night, dancing the waltz."

"Yes, you said so last night." This was a little uncomfortable.

"He all dignity, you all heaving bosom… I know many people commented on the handsome pair you made."

Elizabeth suddenly felt extremely cold towards Gloria Bowhill. She was being exceedingly impertinent. "Heaving bosom?"

"Why, yes. I must congratulate you; one of the best ways to be alluring."

"I assure you that I had no intention of trying to be alluring," said Elizabeth. "I beg you, this topic of conversation is by no means attractive to me."

Mrs Bowhill laughed, seemingly totally unaware of Elizabeth's discomfort. "You can't fool me, _Lady _Elizabeth. We from the country stick with our ways, do we not? – for I am a country girl too, originally. It is a good thing Mr Darcy could not lay a finger on you as a daughter of his cousin, or I predict we would see you running off to join Miss Featherstone very soon."

"Miss Featherstone? I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about. In any event, this conversation has run its course and I beg that you will stop talking along this line."

"Oh, Lady Elizabeth, I can tell you that in town, things are a lot different than in the country. People here will discuss any 'liaisons' one may enter into quite happily, and it will not cause a scandal unless one is too overt in one's _affaires._ Don't worry – it is not be expected that a man like Mr Darcy would be completely free of promiscuity! Doubtless he has some by-blows scattered somewhere about the country, but that has not ruined his reputation at all, has it? Half the women about town have been known to have _affaires _left right and centre but they are still welcomed even into the homes of most of the high sticklers."

Elizabeth stood up. "Well! Look at the time! I am sorry, Mrs Bowhill, but I promised my sister that I would make sure she was awake, and walk with her by now. You will have to excuse me. Thank you so much for coming."

"It is my pleasure. You will come and visit me in Grosvenor Square?"

"I do not see much likelihood of my being able to in the near future, Mrs Bowhill," said Elizabeth through clenched teeth. "I am much engaged over the next few days, and I think my parents plan to remove to the country soon. Goodbye."

Elizabeth could have screamed as she shut the door firmly behind Mrs Bowhill. What a vulgar, pretentious woman! That was one acquaintance she would not be pursuing. And to imply that Mr Darcy was not perfectly pure in his personal affairs! To imply he had illegitimate children! That was the crowning offence. How dare anyone consider him to be otherwise than blameless?

"Thomas, who is Miss Featherstone?" she asked her brother when he came down, bleary-eyed, later.

"What!" he gasped, putting down his cup of coffee. "Miss Featherstone! Where did you hear her name?"

"Never mind – who is she?"

"She is the daughter of Admiral Featherstone; she has had to leave town, it is rumoured, because she is with child! Who spoke to you of her?"

Elizabeth's face was livid. "How _dare_ she!"

"Who?" asked Thomas blankly.

"Mrs Bowhill," said Elizabeth darkly. "She paid me a visit this morning and proceeded to talk about the most repulsive things. I fully intend to avoid her for the rest of my life. Beyond death, even."

"She paid you a visit?" asked Thomas, astounded. "Did no one tell you of Mrs Bowhill?"

"No, why?"

"Everybody you know would agree that you should avoid Mrs Bowhill. She has a terrible reputation. She can appear pleasant at times, I've heard, but always manages to give a conversation a most repulsive turn, as you said. I wonder that my mother did not warn you of her. It must have slipped her mind. It is rumoured that Mrs Bowhill writes a gossip column for a newspaper; the particular column is always especially lewd and suggestive, apparently. Don't go near her again, Elizabeth!"

"Don't worry – I will not!" said Elizabeth grimly. She looked out the window, and her countenance changed almost instantaneously. "Oh look! The Darcy carriage is here!"

Thomas sipped his coffee, with a little grin on his face. "Oh, is it?"

"Yes, it is here! They are here!" said Elizabeth, oblivious.

Thomas gave a little chuckle, and continued to drink his coffee.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

"Elizabeth, this is Georgiana, my sister," said Darcy proudly. "Georgiana, this is your cousin."

Elizabeth stepped forward to clasp Georgiana's hands impulsively, enchanted. "Good morning, you beautiful creature! I am so happy to meet you!"

Georgiana_ was_ a beautiful creature. She would remind anyone of a fairy, with soft fair hair and gentle, bright eyes and a petite, graceful figure. She smiled, shyly, but not uninvitingly. "And I too. I have heard so much about you and your sister, Cousin, that I have been longing to meet you, have I not, William?" She shifted her attention momentarily to her older cousin. "Good morning, Thomas! It is good to see you again!"

When she received no answer, Elizabeth turned to look at her brother. "Thomas?"

He was standing stock still, staring at Georgiana with his mouth a little open, looking very stupid, but at this he recollected himself. "Georgiana! I am very happy to see you again." He cleared his throat.

Elizabeth grinned and turned back to her new cousin. "I hope you are feeling perfectly well now? We were so disappointed you could not come last night."

"Oh yes," said Georgiana. "I am feeling very well. I was very disappointed too. The ball was an event I had looked forward to with such excitement. But now, I confess, because I have met you, and soon I will meet my cousin Jane, I do not regret it as much as I did – I feel perfectly happy."

Darcy stood by proudly, watching his sister and his cousin. There was something about Elizabeth, he could see, some magic charm, that really brought Georgiana out of her shell. Georgiana hardly ever talked so much. Of course, in the last months she had lost a great deal of her shyness, but still, she was naturally a quiet girl, who did not talk a lot, even when she was perfectly comfortable. Elizabeth, however, was almost inspiring his sister to _chatter._ He wondered if he might regret this.

"I will go and fetch Jane for you now," said Elizabeth. "She will be so happy to see you. I am sure you and she will become the best of friends. Please excuse me, Cousins, Thomas."

She ran off upstairs. Thomas sat down and breathed heavily, his eyes still on Georgiana's face as she said something to her brother while walking into the sitting room. He had not expected it to be like this at all. Last time he saw Georgiana, barely six months ago, she was a little girl, terribly shy, even with he and Richard, and he had given her avuncular, reassuring smiles, and a box of sugarplums before she went away. It was almost farcical to remember it now, and to try to compare that trembling child to the wonderful creature before him now. Of course she was recognisable. She had not lost a quiet, shy manner. But she looked about her with so much more ease, even when meeting strangers – she was almost confident. And she was so pretty. He wondered he had not noticed this before. He blinked several times and tried to regain mastery over himself.

Georgiana sat down on the sopha beside him. "Well, Cousin Thomas!" she said in her gentle way. "Ever since you gave me those sugarplums, I have been unaccountably addicted to them. It was very bad of you."

He laughed with some semblance of reality, but winced inside. _O lord, she remembers that? Then I am doomed._ "You see I had an ulterior motive." _That was not very funny, Thomas._

She giggled. He liked it when she giggled. It wasn't like the other girls of her age. They _tittered._ She gave a rather adorable, shy little gurgle of amusement. Yes, she gurgled.

Just at that moment, the door opened, and Jane and Rosalind came inside, led by Lizzy. Georgiana jumped up. "You are my cousin Jane!"

"Yes, I am she," said Jane, taking Georgiana's outstretched hands between hers. "And I am so delighted to meet you at last, Cousin Georgiana!"

Rosalind laughed. "I see I am quite forgotten!"

Thomas did not attend much to any more of the conversation but Georgiana's, until Darcy stood up, looking like he had something to say. There was something about the way Darcy did this sort of thing that always attracted attention. Thomas found himself wishing for Darcy's manner.

"It is a great pity my aunt and uncle are not here," said Darcy, "because I must make my goodbyes to all of you. I will be away for a fortnight at the most on business in the north."

"Oh, that is too bad," said Jane warmly. "We will miss you, Cousin Darcy."

"I will miss you all too," said Darcy, looking at Elizabeth rather sadly.

"It is a great deal like you to have business just when we are beginning to have fun, Darcy!" said Thomas. "Can you not wait for a few weeks? I am sure my parents mean to quit town soon enough. Then we will be in the north ourselves."

Darcy smiled. "I could hardly have given Fate a list of the times that would best suit me for business to arise, Thomas." He turned involuntarily again to Elizabeth. "But I will be back again as soon as it is possible for me to come." He paused. "Unfortunately the business is of such a nature – I only heard of it last night, when I arrived home from the ball – that I must be off as soon as possible. I waited to introduce my sister to you, Elizabeth, Jane, but I feel I must leave you now. Georgiana, do you wish to stay longer?"

"Yes, please," she said immediately.

"Very well. I wish you will all convey my deep regrets to my aunt and uncle – and to Richard, of course – that I could not see them before I left." He hesitated at the door. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," whispered Elizabeth.

Thomas watched her with a slight smile. If anyone had not known better, it would have seemed from her face that he was leaving for a year! Meanwhile, he went about the task of making conversation with Georgiana. Somehow this didn't seem at all arduous, as it had in the past.

Georgiana Darcy almost lived at the Fitzwilliam townhouse for the next couple of weeks. As she was one of the most pleasant types of people to be with, there was not a single person in the house who regretted this. It surprised Jane and Elizabeth that she had always been such good friends with Rosalind, considering the very different personalities of each girl, but they were glad of it. They too grew to know her very well, and harboured a great deal of affection for her. She was such a thoughtful girl. The one evening she remained at the Darcy townhouse instead of visiting her aunt and uncle on Brook Street was spent making little gifts for her newest cousins – little lavender sachets, embroidered with their names and a sprig of lavender, all in the prettiest fashion imaginable. Although she never put herself forward, Elizabeth watched her watching everyone else, and decided that she was a very astute judge of people. If they had a slightly ridiculous visitor, Georgiana's lips twitched at all the moments Elizabeth longed to break into laughter. If someone was slightly upset about something and was trying to hide it – like the time when Elizabeth had been feeling guilty again over her adoptive parents – she noticed at once and gently tried to right things.

Elizabeth thought often of how Wickham had used the poor girl and her anger at him rose all the more. How dare he have exploited her like that? She was the sweetest girl alive. She supposed his treachery must have taught her a lot, however. It probably accounted for the fact that she observed events so carefully now. She was glad that it had not only made her less comfortable; it had pushed her to improve herself. For it was obvious that Georgiana had greatly changed over the last year or so, from the way Rosalind and Mama often spoke of her.

Elizabeth was amused at Thomas' reaction to Georgiana's arrival. She did not dare talk to him about it because he was becoming alarmingly sensitive. She did mention it to Jane once, but was told soundly to mind her own business, because the poor man obviously did not know what to do with himself. However, she had no inclination to tease him, for she wouldn't have wished to upset her brother, or, indeed, Georgiana, for the world, and it seemed like Georgiana was by no means repulsed by his hesitant attentions. She was becoming very fond of her eldest brother. At first, she had felt most distant from him, of her other siblings, because she already knew Rosalind and Richard to some extent. But as she grew to know him, she understood more and more the kind, protective and reliable personality that was Thomas. She felt he was exactly what she had imagined in an elder brother – someone to laugh with, yet someone who looked after her like she was still three years old.

Since Georgiana came, Elizabeth had improved very much at her music suddenly. Not for any competitive reasons, but Georgiana's passion for music could not help but awaken Elizabeth's natural inclination for it, and they played together very often, learning many duets, and accompanying each other's singing. Georgiana had a charming voice, but she would, at first, only sing in front of Elizabeth. Eventually she agreed to sing in a duet with Elizabeth one evening and it was agreed by their entire audience, which included Claudia Trent, who was a frequent visitor at Brook Street, that they were angelic. Elizabeth was pleased to see Georgiana becoming more and more confident in the company of her cousins, and subsequently in strangers' company also.

As for the Earl and Countess, Jane and Elizabeth were becoming more and more happy as their daughters. They had never before experienced having parents who were so affectionate with each other and their children. Elizabeth enjoyed the long conversations she could have with her father, and both sisters couldn't help but take pleasure in the novelty of having a sensible mother, who quite put herself out to ensure her daughters' comfort and whom one could converse with just as easily about religion as about clothes, and who embraced one often. Jane grew to adore her father, looking up to him almost at a ridiculous level. It was interesting also to see the similarities in their own characters to their parents'. Lord Matlock's calmness and Lady Matlock's kindness were very evident in Jane's personality, while Elizabeth's sense of humour and perception seemed to come from her father, and her manner of speaking was held to be almost identical to her mother's. They were also amused to discover their original middle names – Jane's was Jane, funnily enough, and Elizabeth's was Ruby.

The only marring incident in this particular period was a vulgar gossip column in the newspaper, referring to Jane and Elizabeth's reunification with their family, and the evident attachment between 'the youngest of them and the house of a well-known relation from Derbyshire'. As it mentioned, in a roundabout manner, the children Darcy already had, and then suggested Thomas to be a snob, Elizabeth had no difficulty in deciphering whose column it must be, and likewise, no difficulty in ignoring it entirely, as did every other Fitzwilliam. Of course, she was angry at such an unkind attack on Thomas, who was anything _but_ a snob – he was the merely the sort of man who did not suffer foolish people – and of course she hated to hear anything said about Darcy, yet she knew it was best to ignore it.

It was thus an idyllic last few weeks the Fitzwilliams had in town, in Elizabeth's eyes, despite the fact that Darcy was gone and Elizabeth couldn't help but miss him and look for him every time a carriage stopped outside or a door opened.

It was something quite unconscious that Georgiana said that changed this.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

It was a rainy day when Georgiana sat down with Elizabeth in the music room the afternoon before her brother was to return. In fact, it was such a rainy day that the rain was pounding on the roof and they could hear it two storeys below; for the ladies, there was no question of shopping or walking. Thomas and Richard were at Tattersall's, the Earl was attending to business, the Countess and Jane were sitting with Mr Bingley, and Rosalind was staying a few nights with a friend several miles west of London.

"It will be so good to see William tonight, Elizabeth," said Georgiana happily, flicking through a pile of music. "It was quite a disappointment to come to town, only for him to be obliged to leave."

"Yes," said Elizabeth, smiling. "I must say I am looking forward to meeting him again."

Georgiana eyed Elizabeth with a small smile. "I am sure he will be also."

"And why are you smiling so, Miss Darcy?"

"No reason, Lady Fitzwilliam!"

"I had best not bother asking. You are just like your brother."

Georgiana giggled. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"I did not mean it as a compliment!"

"Why ever not?"

Elizabeth chose to remain silent, and merely returned to her pile of music. "Oh, look, Georgiana, here is one we have not tried."

Georgiana looked. "Oh yes, I have heard that one played before. It is delightful. I think we would suit it." She paused. "Elizabeth, were you troubled by that horrid column in the newspaper the other day?"

"Not in the least, I assure you. It was merely malicious nonsense. Is it bothering you, Georgiana?"

Georgiana sighed. "I suppose it should not. I hate it when people say things about him."

"Of course you do. But you need not let it trouble you!" said Elizabeth, looking back at the piece of music.

"Even if he _is_ sometimes like that," burst out Georgiana, absently, "no one has the right to write about him in such a dreadful way!"

Elizabeth suddenly held the music still, staring blindly at an A with a mordent above it, three staves down. "What did you say?" she whispered.

Georgiana looked at her in surprise. "Why, he might have made a few mistakes in the way he treated people, but that is hardly reason to treat him like that! I daresay most men do that sort of thing!"

Elizabeth had a horrible feeling of the earth falling beneath her feet. If Georgiana said it was true…

"Are you feeling quite well, Elizabeth?" asked Georgiana, concerned.

Elizabeth tried to smile. "I believe … I have a headache coming on, that is all. Will you excuse me? I think I should probably lie down for a while."

"Oh, of course, Lizzy! Is there anything I can get you? Any service I can perform?"

"No, I am fine. If you will just tell my Mama that I will probably not be down for dinner?" She left the room hurriedly, not waiting to hear Georgiana's reply.

It was not until Elizabeth gained the safety of her bedchamber that she allowed herself to panic. Could it be true! Could _Darcy_, of all men, be so immoral? And Georgiana condoning his actions! She slowly pulled across the curtains, sunk onto her bed and stared blindly at the wall, unable to escape the nightmare. Oh, it could not be true. He could not do that. She could not feel that kind of disgust for him.

But what other explanation could there be?

She fell back on the bed, succumbing to tears, but she felt frozen inside.

"Lizzy, how are you feeling?" It was Jane, entering the room and stroking her hair, somewhere past eight o'clock.

Lizzy was only conscious of a deep, raw pain as she awoke. "A little better, Jane," she said drowsily.

"I am glad. Do you feel able to come downstairs yet? Mr Darcy has arrived. He was most worried to hear of your headache."

"No!" cried Elizabeth, more aggressively than she had meant to. Jane looked mildly surprised. "I mean, no, I am sorry. I do not feel quite well enough yet."

"If you wish," said Jane gently. "Do you want anything to eat? Something to drink?"

"Oh, yes, please, Jane," said Elizabeth gratefully. "I am very thirsty. Could I just have some water?"

"Of course. I will send someone with it at once." But she stayed where she was, with a little smile. "Lizzy…"

Elizabeth opened her eyes again, wearily. "What is it, Jane?"

Jane took her sister's hands. "You knew Mr Bingley was here?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy!"

Elizabeth gasped. "He proposed!"

"Yes, Lizzy! I was not going to tell you until you felt a little better, so I apologise, but I couldn't hold it in! We are engaged!"

How Elizabeth got through the next few minutes she did not know. All that Jane's declaration had done was to plunge her further into despair. She was conscious of an extremely guilty feeling that she was not at all happy with the news, and so she tried to act how she was sure she would have acted had it been yesterday that Mr Bingley called. Apparently her performance was good enough for a not-so-penetrating Jane, who left with a glowing smile, an exclamation of how much she loved her Lizzy, and a promise that she would send the water up directly.

Elizabeth lay back on her pillows with a sigh and closed her eyes. Mr Darcy was downstairs, the father of illegitimate children, and Jane was engaged to Bingley – of all moments to become so. She would have to face him again; she would have to face everyone else, appearing almost as happy as Jane was.

Unfortunately, in the past, Lizzy had had nothing but disgust for men who fathered children in that way and left the poor women unmarried. She had never experienced the feeling of being as in love as one can suppose oneself to be – with one of these men. She supposed her feelings on the subject to be due to her lack of experience in the high society she was now a part of, as obviously Georgiana had been brought up to hardly think it a sin. Perhaps even her parents knew, and didn't care. But the combination now of repulsion and love made her more heartsick than she had ever been, and although she did not weep again, she could not look on anything without the deepest despair. All she could hope for was that her love for him would eventually fade.

"Why, good morning, Elizabeth!" said Lord Matlock, looking up from his newspaper at the breakfast table. "I hope you are feeling better?"

"Yes, I am quite well now, Papa," she said quietly. "I am not very hungry though – I thought I might go for a walk? I feel the need for fresh air."

"Of course, my dear. You do look slightly pale still. You will take someone with you?"

"Yes, Papa. I have asked Hilda to come."

"Hilda? Oh, the maid." He looked at her for a few moments. "Come here, Elizabeth, just before you leave." She looked surprised, but came and sat beside him, and he put his arm around her. "My dear, are you _really_ well?" he said quietly, scanning her face.

For a strange reason she felt like crying again at the kindness in his voice, so she looked down. "Yes, Papa. I simply need to get out of the house, I think."

"Well, if you say so, my pretty wee girl." He laughed at her expression at being called thus. "That was my pet name for you as a baby."

She couldn't help smiling; he was glad to see it. "It was?"

"Yes. Have a good walk, Elizabeth." Just as she reached the door, he called out again. "Oh, Elizabeth, Darcy will be here soon. I know he would like to see you again."

Elizabeth forced a smile, and slipped out the door.

John Fitzwilliam looked back at his newspaper but it was not the advertisement for soap that he was frowning at so. He wondered what was going on with his second daughter that she did not want to tell him. He had rarely felt so protective.

Elizabeth, oblivious, collected Hilda and they left the house, walking faster than Hilda would have liked, in the direction of the Park. A few minutes later, the Darcy carriage stopped outside the Fitzwilliam townhouse.

"Good morning, uncle!" said Georgiana, walking into the room with a smile. "How are you this fine morning?"

Lord Matlock forced the worry off his face and greeted Georgiana and her brother with a bigger smile. "Good morning, both of you! I am pleased to see you, and pleased that we will not have rain today, at the very least."

Darcy smiled. "Yes, it bodes well to be a very fine day." He paused. "Is Cousin Elizabeth better?" He had been troubled with a feeling that all was not well with his cousin. He could hardly stop thinking of her.

"She is up, at least," said Lord Matlock. "But she still seems not quite herself. She has just gone for a walk."

"Oh," he said, looking a little disappointed. But he roused himself to a smile. "I understand Bingley is coming around soon also?"

"Yes," laughed the earl. "I wonder why it is we are to see so much of him."

Georgiana laughed. "I am very happy for Jane."

"And I for Bingley _and_ Jane," said Darcy. "It gives me great pleasure to see my friend and my cousin so happily matched."

Just then Thomas entered the room. "Good morning, all!" he said enthusiastically.

Darcy was amused to see the smile that passed between Georgiana and his cousin. He remembered it had seemed like Thomas had been a little overwhelmed by her two weeks ago. Now she seemed just as impressed. If he was not mistaken, sometime in the future he would find himself, for the first time in his life, being applied to for permission to marry her. He supposed he would have to say yes, too. She was still plenty young, of course, at seventeen, but she was a mature girl, and she would be turning eighteen soon.

Elizabeth was away from the house for about half an hour. She had wanted to stay longer. Although she knew the meeting with Darcy would come, she wanted to delay it as long as possible. However, fate, in the form of Hilda, declined all possibility of this. Hilda was not a country girl like Elizabeth; she took no pleasure in walking as fast as Lady Elizabeth did; she did not hesitate to complain when she began to feel blisters forming. Elizabeth longed for the conscience to ignore her, but she knew it would be unfeeling to force the girl to walk any longer now. They made their way back to the house. 

"Cousin Elizabeth!" beamed Darcy when he saw her.

"Cousin," she said quietly, after a short hesitation at the shock of love she felt on seeing him. "I am happy to see you returned safe." _O no, what if something_ had_ happened to him?_

"Thank you," he said, a little puzzled. "_I _am happy to see you recovered. Or are you still suffering from the effects of your headache?"

"A little, sir," was all the response he gained. She briefly smiled, and walked past him into the sitting room where her mother was.

He had expected a better welcome than this and was aware of a feeling of disappointment. For a moment he stood in the entrance hall holding the small gift he had been planning to give her, before Georgiana's voice recalled him, and he turned into the sitting room also.

Elizabeth was employed in talking to her mother. "Oh, Mama, I confess I have been so much looking forward to the time when we would return to the country. I am so glad we will be off soon. I long to see Matlock. And London – although it is enjoyable for a time – can never be the same to me as the country."

"I am glad to hear it, Elizaviv." (Lady Matlock's new nickname for Elizabeth – a mixture between Elizabeth and Vivian.) "I own I have wanted to show it to you and Jane these twenty years."

Elizabeth smiled. Darcy thought she looked very tired.

"Cousin," he said. "I have brought you a present from Yorkshire. You missed out on the general present-giving, so I must give it to you now."

Elizabeth looked up, startled at being spoken to. "Oh, Cousin, there was no need to…"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "I know, but I thought that if I brought everyone else a present, but not you, it would look very strange in me, and people might discover my dislike of you."

Elizabeth did not even smile. He began to worry.

"Naturally, I am honoured to receive a gift from you, Cousin," she said, sounding very formal.

He pulled the box out of his pocket, feeling like a schoolboy again. "Here it is. I hope you like it."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Elizabeth cautiously opened the flat, square box. It was covered in black velvet on the inside and out. Inside was a perfectly beautiful pearl necklace. She sighed. "It is beautiful." Her eyes met his. "Thank you, Cousin." She shut the box and put it in her reticule.

The expression in her eyes stunned him. It was almost accusing, he thought. "A p-pleasure," he stammered.

Try as he might, Darcy could not decipher what on earth he had done, no matter how hard he thought for the rest of the day – and the night. Her behaviour towards him had been so cold, so quelling… He could not pretend to understand it. He tortured himself with the image of her eyes regarding him _that_ way; it couldn't help but bring back the images he had fought so hard to dispel of Elizabeth at Hunsford, telling him how and why she hated him. He had made himself forget those; he had, quite sensibly, told himself that she had misunderstood him, and she was obviously beginning to feel positively towards him now, at the very least. But the events of that day merely had the effect of driving him back to his old insecurities and he did not know what to do or say.

Elizabeth, however, was beginning to realise how very hard it would be to be impervious to Mr Darcy. She was exhausted before noon from the effort of keeping her emotions in check, from trying to present a content front to her family, and from trying to stop herself from giving her cousin any encouragement whatsoever. At one moment, namely, when he had given her that_ beautiful_ necklace, she had almost burst into tears, and had looked at him more coldly than she had meant to. At another she had almost unburdened herself on Jane, but had stopped herself immediately. Jane was the last person she wanted to talk to about this; _why_ had Jane had to go and get engaged at this time of all times? She doubted whether Jane would have heard her, in any case. Her sister was in a world of her own and Mr Bingley's. Elizabeth tried to be happy for her, but while all her own hopes were quenched in such a depressing manner she found it impossible. She knew that when the wedding came, she would probably have to be bridesmaid and Mr Darcy best man, and how would she bear that? The one thing that gave her any pleasure was the family's imminent removal to their country seat. Yes, it was in Derbyshire, unfortunately, and they were sure to be seeing a lot of her cousin, but she was sure it would comfort her to be in the country again. Besides, there were so many more ways to avoid people in the country.

Elizabeth did not realise that most of the people in the house noticed her air of melancholy. As it was so unlike Elizabeth to be at all moody, even with their limited knowledge of her, her parents were beginning to feel very anxious. Georgiana could hardly draw her cousin into conversation, and Rosalind, on returning to the house, wondered what on earth had caused Elizabeth to change so in the three or four nights she had been gone. Richard could not help but notice that she was not properly laughing at his jokes. Darcy's mind, obviously, was wholly absorbed with the change in his cousin. It was only Jane, Bingley and Thomas, engrossed in their own affairs, that did not notice anything wrong with Elizabeth.

Lady Matlock wondered aloud as she knit, to the earl, in the evening, "My dear, I sense that there is something that is upsetting Elizabeth."

"Yes, I feel the same way, Cecilia," replied her husband, putting down the book he had been trying to occupy himself with. "You do not have any idea as to what it is?"

"No," she said slowly. "I cannot think what it could possibly be. I would almost say, if I didn't know better, that she and William have quarrelled. But I don't see how they can have done so. And William seems as confused as we are."

"Mmm…" he agreed. "You know, my dear, I wonder if she was upset by that disgusting gossip column from last week?"

Lady Matlock looked at him. "You know, John, you may have hit the nail on the head there. But do you really think she would believe such horrible things about William?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't expect her to think like that." He thought. "I wonder if she does not like William the way we had thought her to? She may have realised, through that column, that people think she likes him, and she may not have meant to give that impression at all."

"It's possible," said Lady Matlock thoughtfully. "Why does she seem so unhappy then? Poor girl, I do not feel as if I can directly ask her about it. We are not so close as that yet. However, maybe I should try, if she is as miserable as she seems."

"I think perhaps you should leave her be for now, Cecilia," said her husband. "It may simply be that she is having a bad day, and still feeling slightly unwell. You yourself said we do not know her well enough yet. Jane does not seem to be worried."

Lady Matlock laughed. "O, Jane! She would not be worried about anything that was not directly told her while she is in this state! I am so happy for her, John."

"And I," he said with a fond smile. "I do not wish to lose her so soon, but I could not wish her to be less happy than she is now."

"I do not think we will lose her," said her mother affectionately. "She is such a good girl. I think we should invite Bingley to Matlock with us, John, if he does not go to Pemberley with Darcy and Georgiana."

"Oh yes, of course – I am sorry I forgot to tell you, my love, but I invited him this morning. And Darcy and Georgiana are to stay with us for several weeks before they go north to Pemberley."

"Good," she said. "Will Bingley come?"

And so it was that Elizabeth was not forgotten, but was unspoken of by her parents for the remainder of the evening.

The Fitzwilliams set off for Matlock on what promised to be a glorious day; the ladies in the carriages, and the five gentlemen riding behind. They were to stop one night at an inn on the way. Jane was in great spirits. She was terribly excited about seeing her home for the first time, although it was not to be her home for much longer, and as we have already ascertained, not much could keep her from being happy so soon after the commencement of her engagement.

The family who had already seen the place were, of course, eager to be in the country again, for there were not many places more happily situated than Matlock, although the Countess laughed that Pemberley was probably one of them. Matlock was no dingy, cold country house with drab grounds and smoking fireplaces. It was very large, in the best possible way, with comfortable and elegant rooms and all the first recommendations of fashion. The grounds were extensive, and included anything anyone could possibly wish for – forest, hills, a river, a lake, vast farmland, and all those necessities like a herb garden, greenhouse or shrubbery which really make a house modern. In fact, as Lord Matlock said with a twinkle in his eye, when he was feeling very bold he might almost think that his grounds rivalled Pemberley's. The Fitzwilliams also kept a good stable and kennels.

Elizabeth, as you may imagine, was too unhappy to be _greatly_ excited by the imminent prospect of seeing her real home, but it was hardly possible that she did not cherish some anticipation at the thought of seeing Matlock. It seemed too strange that she should be going to live in one of the great houses that she had always seen as the type one applied to view, if one was lucky, while travelling. The elegant townhouse, of course, had slightly toned down this feeling, but still, to her, country houses were supposed to be about the size of Longbourn, and anything larger seemed almost indecent. She was very much looking forward to viewing the library there, which her father told her was held to be very large, and by no means lacking in popular fiction as well as the more improving kinds of books. And she longed to be on the back of a horse again; any of which were at Matlock, she had no doubt, would be a much better ride than the Nellies of her past, who were the type of horses that were termed 'safe rides'. In fact, she found her spirits almost lifting as her mother pointed out various landmarks that showed how close they were coming to home – how delicious it was to say that word! – and she forgot, for a time, her sorrows.

On arrival, Jane and Elizabeth squeezed hands as they regarded Matlock, beaming. It was truly one of the most beautiful houses they had seen in their lives, and to them it seemed almost a palace. It was going to be very hard, they could tell at once, to come round to the idea that they were actually living there.

"Do you like it, girls?" asked their father with a proud smile.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" breathed Jane.

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes warm. "I almost cannot believe it is not a mirage!"

The family laughed. "Please, take the liberty of touching it, Lizzyviv," said her mother. "You will find it is quite concrete."

"Thank you," said Elizabeth with a smile, walking to the wall. "I shall." She did. "I am quite satisfied – it is real."

"I must say I felt quite as you did when I first came here, Elizabeth," said Lord Matlock. "Your mother actually asked George whether he had made a mistake."

"George?" asked Elizabeth curiously.

"George Darcy," he said. "Our William's father."

"Oh," she whispered, consciousness returning. She strove to disguise her feelings, however, as Darcy came up to her cautiously smiling, and took her arm. She had settled it that she must not be rude. There was no question now of her ever allowing herself to encourage his attentions, but as he was quite entitled to do whatever he wanted without reference to her, she knew she must try to bear his presence. So she forced a smile back and allowed her to take his arm, even if she was very quiet for the next half hour or so.

Before anything else, Jane and Elizabeth met the old retainers of the house. There was Patton, the rather austere-looking butler who had served the Fitzwilliam family for centuries, and who bestowed a very gracious greeting on the two new family members, which served to put them quite at ease. Mrs Cliffe was the housekeeper, and had also been there since before the current earl's time. She was obviously very responsible and busy, yet had a remarkably kind smile and told them she should have recognised them as Fitzwilliams at any time. Nurse, or Miss Stockwell, was the other pillar of the household that had to be introduced; it was obvious she had taken a firm hand in rearing all the family for she called the heir of the house Master Tom still, while her former charges still called her Stocky, a name which she pretended to hate but was secretly pleased by. It was Nurse who first perceived the fatigue in Elizabeth's eyes and manhandled her 'new charge' upstairs to show her to her bedchamber for some refreshment. Elizabeth could not feel otherwise than agreeably disposed towards the lady who treated her so forcefully yet obviously had the highest degree of goodwill and kindness towards her. "Now, you sit down there, Miss Vivian" (as she insisted on calling Elizabeth) "and take off your pelisse, and drink this tea, and you will soon feel much better."

"I assure you, Miss Stockwell, I am quite recovered!" laughed Elizabeth.

"You'd best call me Nurse, or Stocky, if you must, dear," said Nurse, ignoring Elizabeth's plea. "I find I am not at all used to being called Miss Stockwell anymore, unhappily. I find I do not answer questions to it anymore. Now drink up!"

Elizabeth found she could not refuse.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

As soon as Elizabeth could escape Nurse's clutches, she and Jane were shown all over the house by their father and Rosalind. It was a long and exhaustive tour, for all Lord Matlock's efforts to be economic with time, as Rosalind felt the need to tell how many anecdotes he could not remember about every room they dared enter. It did not help that Elizabeth and Jane found them fascinating, and insisted on hearing each one. It was at moments like these that they wished they could have grown up with their brothers and Rosalind around, after hearing all the madcap adventures and scrapes they had got themselves into as youngsters.

The library had to be Elizabeth's favourite room, although the music room closely challenged this. There was an air of quiet distinction to it that she felt exquisitely calming to her recently shattered nerves. It was large, lined with ebony shelves crammed with books; on the walls between the bookshelves hung the most tasteful engravings; there were three round tables and red leather armchairs scattered about the room, along with some more free-standing bookshelves – all of which combined to make it feel like a positive haven to her.

Elizabeth spent a lot of time there over the next few days. The rest of the family joked about her being 'unbearably bookish', and Richard teased her that she must really wish to escape his company, but she just gave a small smile each time and said how much she loved it. Something she discovered that she had not expected at all was the inscriptions at the front of some of the older books.

_To my dear Amelia, on her seventeenth birthday, from her loving Papa, _on a popular novel of 1720Amelia was her great-great-aunt, who ended up writing a successful novel that no one ever knew was by her until after her death.

_To Andrew, in the Sincere yet Laboured Hope that he will Benefit from it, from his Godmother_, inside the cover of _Sermons to Make Humble the Flippant. _She had to laugh when her father told her that this Andrew, his great-uncle, was a hopeless gambler and libertine, and quite the disappointment of the family, while his godmother was the rather stern wife of a notable evangelist.

_To my darling Henrietta: I Love you more than Words can tell and I thank you Most Fervently for your long-suffering Faithfulness to me. I send you these Poems as a token of my Devotion and I pray every day that God will bring this war to a close soon, and bring me Home to you, so that we can be Married immediately. Your William, _on a collection of poems. Elizabeth pored over this book and its inscription when her mother told her that the man who had sent this to her ancestor was killed in battle two weeks later, fighting for Charles I in the Civil War.

It was fascinating for Elizabeth to slowly uncover her family history. There were scandals and intrigues, such as the problems the seventh earl had with his wife, who eventually ran off to France with a poet, and the various instances of a Fitzwilliam giving birth to the illegitimate son or daughter of a king. There was heroism and romance that she would only have expected between the pages of a novel. She supposed that one day, _her_ descendants might be learning their family history, and would hear about _her _and Jane's story as a remarkable feature of the Fitzwilliam past. That thought gave her chills down her spine. And the idea amazed her that so many things had happened in the past by such slight chances, so many one in a million chances had brought together the people that had produced her ancestors, and eventually, _her._

And throughout all of this, Elizabeth lived with a dull ache, a melancholy that would not shake itself off her. It lost its initial sting, and she found herself able to laugh again, and to talk almost normally with Mr Darcy, even to tease him, and to feel happy again for Jane… yet she never wanted to get up in the morning, she lost the old pleasure she had taken in simple things like birds singing in the morning, she couldn't eat as much as she had…

In short, Elizabeth was unhappy, and she didn't see how she could stop being so.

Mr Darcy was, at this time, still quite confused about Elizabeth. There was to be no confusing his feelings for her; feelings so ardent could not be denied or disguised. He had fallen even more deeply in love with her than he could ever have predicted, and he had thought she… But sometimes she looked so pained, so tired – surely someone who had seemed so happy to be with him several weeks ago, so energised all the time, could not feel like that now? He wondered suddenly if she was unwell, and immediately the darkest fears arose in his mind. To have her placed so close to his reach so recently, and then to have her snatched away – that would be torment indeed.

He grew grave, even more attentive to Elizabeth than ever; he voiced his fears to her mother, who admitted she had been harbouring some worries also. She in turn went to her husband, and then to the subject of this anxious discourse – Elizabeth herself.

Elizabeth was sitting quietly by the mirror in her bedchamber one morning three weeks into their stay at Matlock, her hair being deftly arranged by her cheerful maid, when her mother came into the room. "That looks lovely, Bessie!"

"Thank you, ma'am. There, Lady Elizabeth, will that do?"

"Yes, thank you very much, Bessie. You may go now, if you wish. Have you plans for today? It is your half-day off, is it not?"

"Yes, my lady, I am to visit my grandmother. She lives a few miles from Matlock, and is not very well at present."

"Please give her my best wishes, Bessie. I hope you have a good day."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Lady Matlock waited till the door closed behind the maid. "She's a lovely girl."

"Yes, and so clever with my hair!" laughed Elizabeth. Her mother, watching her closely, noticed how quickly she stopped laughing, and the bleak look in her eyes, and her heart ached.

"My dear…"

Elizabeth steeled herself, knowing the time for the inevitable talk had come. She did not know what she was to say. She could hardly tell her mother why she was not acting the same towards Darcy; that would be an admittance of her feelings, and as her feelings were what she was most trying to forget at the present, she felt it might be too much.

"Lizzyviv – are you unwell, darling?"

"What?" Elizabeth was surprised.

"You seem so tired, so depressed, at the moment. I was worried you were concealing some sickness."

Elizabeth drew a breath. "I will not deny I feel very tired at the moment, Mama. I do not know why. I just don't have enough energy. I do not think it's serious. That is why I didn't talk about it."

Lady Matlock looked a little relieved. "Well, it is worrying, but I am glad it is nothing worse. Do tell me if something is wrong with you, my dear! No matter how small it is. You don't need to suffer in silence. All of us – we want you to be happy."

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you, Mama." She reached across the bed and quickly embraced her mother, trying to hold back tears. A feeling that she should tell her everything shot through her quickly, only to be dismissed just as quickly. She could not tell anyone. She felt intensely lonely as her mother embraced her back. So close and yet so far.

"Do you need to rest a little more, dear? I will explain to the others."

"No, I think I will be well soon," said Elizabeth hopefully. "If I feel tired, I rest, anyway. I find ways, you know, to escape everyone!"

Lady Matlock smiled painfully. She had noticed this, and thought it so unlike the old Elizabeth – at least, the one she had met a few months ago – that this statement did nothing to allay her fears. However, she had reason to feel a little more happy with the situation than she had several minutes ago.

Darcy was the first person she spoke to about the matter. "You don't need to worry so much, Darcy, she is merely tired at the moment. She is sure she will get over it soon. I am convinced nothing is _seriously_ wrong."

Darcy could not say how relieved he was, but he still had niggling doubts. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, pretty sure," laughed the countess.

The weight on Darcy's mind was much diminished by this. She was tired – not so sick that it was very dangerous, sick enough that it wasn't her feelings towards him. After all, she still teased him, laughed at him, talked to him. If her eyes had lost a certain fondness, it was because of her fatigue. He almost rejoiced in it.

The first opportunity he had...


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

"Good afternoon, Cousin."

Elizabeth jumped. "Oh! Good afternoon, Cousin Darcy." A small involuntary smile rose to her face on first seeing him. It faded, but he was pleased to see it. She turned back to the rose bush she was searching for the choicest specimens. "Have you been riding with Thomas?"

"Yes, we went all the way to Godfrey Hill; I am very stiff," he laughed. "Do you like to ride?"

"Yes, I do, but Jane is a far better horsewoman than I; unfortunately I never mastered the art."

"We should all go for a picnic sometime, by horseback."

"That's a good idea." Elizabeth thought, with something approaching a smile, that she was really beginning to outdo herself in inanities.

"What are you picking these for? Can I help you?" he asked, approaching the rose bush.

"Mama would like some roses for the red parlour, as Mr and Mrs Deniston will be coming around for tea this afternoon. Thank you. I only want the paler ones."

"Elizabeth."

"The darker ones seem to clash with the wallpaper in that particular parlour-"

"Elizabeth."

She rushed on, knowing what was coming by the tone of his voice – she knew all his tones, all his expressions, everything about him and it pained her. She had to stop it. "I do hope you don't get scratched! They are particularly vicious roses-"

"Elizabeth." He seized her hands gently.

There was no avoiding it. She looked down. She longed for it to be over already, while at the same time she wanted to run away before it could happen.

"I love you."

She gulped down a tear; this was so hard! This was so much harder than she had thought it would be.

"I – I know that I have no right to approach you again on this matter, after your feelings were made clear to me last April, but I cannot hold myself back, dearest Elizabeth-"

"Oh, please don't!" Elizabeth cried suddenly. ""Please, please, don't!"

He stiffened. "You will not consider marrying me?"

She felt a tear on her cheek. "I cannot, Cousin, I cannot; you cannot ask me-"

"Why not?" he said bleakly, before recollecting himself. "Forgive me. I had thought you… you returned my feelings."

"Please, Cousin, do not ask me this!"

He turned away from her, bringing his hand to his eyes for a long moment. After some time he looked up, appearing calm except for a look of despair in his eyes that Elizabeth was quick to notice. "I apologise for embarrassing you, Cousin. It is my ardent wish for you to be happy; I am sorry to make you uncomfortable. You will not be bothered by me again."

Elizabeth fervently wished she could disappear. The grim set of his face made her long to run into his arms and assure him that she was his, but it was too late. The time had come; all her hopes were gone.

He turned to walk away.

"I love you," she whispered as he disappeared into the shrubbery.

Mr Darcy left Matlock soon after this encounter. Elizabeth was not sorry for it. The sight of him could only bring her pain, and she hoped that with his absence she would find a measure of recovery; it was too awkward having him around. They tried to disguise their embarrassment, and managed well enough for most eyes, but Elizabeth was tired of acting and he was depressed and it was best for both of them, for everyone, in fact, that he went.

He told the Earl and Countess that he had business that he had put off for too long, at Pemberley, and that he hoped he could be back among them soon, but he feared it would occupy a significant period of time. He would, at any rate, be there for Jane and Bingley's wedding, as Bingley's best man, and he whispered into the Earl's ear that if anything happened on the Georgiana-Thomas front, he would not be vehemently opposed to it, although he would like to see Thomas about it. The Earl smiled involuntarily. "It cannot be far off."

The whole family waved him off, and both Darcy and Elizabeth mustered calm and friendly enough demeanours to leave no suspicions of the true reason for his departure.

Elizabeth thought, when he left, that she could really relax for the first time, and in accordance with this, she went to the library and read, curled up in a big armchair. She soon found that this was not the case. Of course, it was easier than it had been, having to face him every day as if nothing were wrong. Yet she worried about him constantly. Would he seek solace in other women? Was he safe, all alone at Pemberley? And most of all, she worried about her future. Although her parents never gave the least impression of an intention of making her marry, she had no doubt that that was what was expected. She would have to make a great marriage, no doubt; she was the daughter of an earl. The old Elizabeth Bennet had no desire to be a dead weight on her family, even if the Elizabeth Fitzwilliam that existed now would never want for anything under her family's ample fortune. But Elizabeth had been raised in such a way that such ideas were unbearable. She did not think she wanted to be the maiden aunt, living in Thomas', or Jane's, households, as much as she loved them, and she knew it was impossible for a woman of her place in society to set up her own home, with a chaperone. Yet there was nothing she despised the thought of more than marrying. There was no one she could marry. It would not be fair to marry some poor man while in love with another; she could not do it, it was foreign to her nature. She had never even considered the possibility of marrying a man for anything other than love, and she was even more vehement than ever in this determination now. It was impossible. But what could she do?

Above all, she knew that however she managed to numb herself in terms of Darcy, she knew most vehemently that she would never, ever be able to love another.

Within a week of Darcy's departure, Thomas approached Georgiana and was accepted wholeheartedly. The whole family was overjoyed, and Elizabeth, who had come to love Georgiana sincerely, almost forgot everything else in her delight at the match. To see Georgiana so happy, so confident with herself must make anyone else happy. To see Thomas so protective and caring must make anyone satisfied. The Earl and Countess were very happy with the match, of course. Thomas left home almost immediately after obtaining his parents' consent in order to gain Darcy's; he came back the next day wreathed in smiles.

When he next had time to spare from hovering around Georgiana and responding to her rapturous smiles, he sat down beside Elizabeth on the sopha and heaved a great sigh of contentment. "Well, Elizabeth! You must be thinking us lovebirds great fools by now."

"No, of course not," said Elizabeth with a sly smile.

"I am not so delirious that I cannot recognise that smile, Lizzy."

"What smile, Thomas?"

He laughed. "You minx! Well, I suppose it will be your turn next, anyhow, or Richard's."

Elizabeth laughed, concealing her consternation. "Most likely Richard's, I would expect – that is, unless Rosalind bewitches some poor man."

"Poor man indeed! I would feel most heartily sorry for any man that fell in love with Rosalind – but most happy for her, I think."

Elizabeth laughed. "I do not think she has any inclination to fall in love quite yet, at least."

"Inclination?" Thomas said, raising his eyebrows. "It is nothing to do with that."

Elizabeth gave him a small, thoughtful smile. "No, I suppose not."

"I think some people are just _supposed_ to be together. Only a few months ago I hardly thought about Georgiana. Now… I can't imagine life without her. It would be most unnatural. And I wonder if there are things that keep some lovers apart that should not be considerations. So many people don't marry the one they love because of money, for instance – you have seen this, Bingley and Jane were almost kept apart by this, were they not? I used to think that was very practical; now I think it is foolish. I had a dream a few nights before I asked Georgiana to marry me, and in it I was a simple farmer and Georgiana was a princess. Nobody would let us marry. It was very vivid. And I came out of it with a very strong conviction that if two people are in love, there are some details that are irrelevant." He laughed. "Happily, Georgiana and I are equals in every sense!"

Elizabeth did not answer. She was gazing at her brother thoughtfully.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Thomas' words lodged firmly in Elizabeth's head over the next few days. She often tried to shake them out by going for a gallop on her mare, Jetty, but this only reminded her too much of the few rides she had taken with her cousin, or by immersing herself in a very difficult book of which Mr Bennet would have approved, but her mind only drifted to the subject. She tried to socialise even more, and to busy herself with helping in the wedding plans, but she tired easily, and would go to bed early on the insistence of the others, and there, she would lie and think about him.

The problems with ignoring Darcy's past were as follows: he was not the morally outstanding man she had believed him to be. She could not definitely trust him to be faithful to her after this. She could not necessarily be sure of anything about him that she had believed to be true. She could finish off even more miserable than she was now.

The benefits, also, were as follows: he loved her now. She knew she loved him. There was no question about it; she could marry no other. She couldn't imagine not being happy with him. They were meant to be together, like Thomas and Georgiana, like Jane and Bingley – no! Even _more_ so! If she did not marry him, she would descend into bitterness and dullness, for the rest of her life. She _yearned_ to be happy again. She could not be so without him. It was foolish to let such a thing come between them.

Every time she considered the subject, she started off with the most sensible reasoning supporting why she could never marry Darcy, and finished with a rush of emotions that sat somewhere between desperation and exhilaration, convinced that somehow, she had to get him to propose again.

This went on and on until one day… she could take it no more. She made her decision. She had to marry him. Even while she felt the first gust of elation at her choice, however, she began to worry how on earth she could orchestrate it.

She had to formulate a plan.

_Dear Mr Darcy,_

_I am very sorry if my letter inconveniences you in any possible way…_

_Dear Cousin Darcy,_

_I am sorry for any inconvenience you may encounter…_

_My dear Cousin,_

_I…_

_I am very sorry…_

_I need to ask you if you can do something…_

_Dear William,_

_I love you. Please come back…_

Elizabeth thought, pausing to sigh, that given the circumstances, she was doing pretty well at only filling one wastepaper basket with discarded letters so far. She heaved another sigh and returned to the paper in front of her. This time she would make a real effort to do it, and to do it right.

_Dear Mr Darcy,_

_I am sorry to inconvenience you, as I know you are very occupied at present with your business, but I need to ask you if you will please consider returning to Matlock for a day or two as I have something I need to tell you that I would prefer not to communicate by letter. I will be in the yellow morning room at Matlock each day this week and next, from one o'clock until three o'clock._

_Yours truly,_

_Elizabeth Fitzwilliam_

She did not know what he would think of her. It was very improper, to be sure. She did not want him to think that she was improper. But something inside her made her suspect that perhaps – perhaps – he wouldn't think about propriety at all. She hoped.

The next problem to consider – besides making herself send the letter – was how she was going to tell him. It was a good thing this hadn't occurred to her while she had been deliberating originally over whether to marry him or not, or she probably would have abandoned the whole plan in fright, but now… Elizabeth had given way, and she was determined that nothing was going to change her decision now. She felt a quickening sense of excitement as the hours went by, but now she pondered with growing fright what _exactly _she was going to say to him.

He was so proud. She hoped he would even come to start with. But it wasn't as if she could just saunter up to him and say, "I love you and I am now willing to pass over the fact that you are a wicked, immoral person, so please marry me." What would he think of her! "I think you are very immoral and I didn't want to marry you because of this but now I have decided that I don't care about morality so I will marry you." She would look just as bad as him. Besides that, it was exceedingly improper and rude for a female to have any awareness of such things.

She didn't want to lie. But the only thing she could think of saying so far, that offended nobody and might sound halfway plausible, was that she had realised she loved him after he left.

It was going to be humiliating no matter how she decided to do it, in the end. But she knew it was worth it.

She went to bed that evening, a week after Thomas' conversation with her, resolved on sending the letter the next day with the servant who went between Pemberley and Matlock weekly. At the earliest, he would be with her the day after that. She could think about it over those two days.

It was difficult to sleep that night.

Elizabeth woke up early the next morning. She lay in bed, soaking up the sun for a while, feeling strangely calm. Not being one to lie abed for hours, she was soon up, by the big window-seat, untying the curtain sashes and throwing the big windows open. It was a beautiful day. Thomas and Richard waved at her cheerfully from below, as they walked across the lawn holding their rods after going for an early morning fish. She waved, grinning, and hung out the window. "Good morning!"

"Morning, Lizzy!" shouted back Richard. "We got two big trout!"

"Well done!" she cried back.

They waved again and went into the house from the kitchen entrance, no doubt to surprise the cook. Elizabeth gazed out the window, taking deep breaths and enjoying the slight chill of the air contrasted with the cosy warmth of the sun. Quickly she made up her mind, and ran to put some clothes on and do her hair. She was downstairs shortly after, leaving an envelope on the pile of letters in the entrance way to be sent to Pemberley, and out the door a moment later, making her way to the river. She wore an old dress from Longbourn times with a cheerful sunbonnet and a blue ribbon, and there was something very liberating about striding along the path, through the woods, feeling like her future held some hope in it again. She had not allowed herself to think about the enormity of putting the letter on the pile as she did it, only to enjoy the feeling she had from being free of it, and look forward in anticipation to the time when he would come.

She sat down on the bank of the river when she came to it, pulled off her boots and sank her feet into the pebbles at the bottom of the river, taking a peculiar pleasure in the feeling. She could have sat there for hours, watching the swallows sweeping the woods and the sun reflecting on the water and the occasional fish darting down the current. But she roused herself after what seemed like too short a time; the family would already have breakfasted, and she had not left any note of her whereabouts. Reluctantly she put her boots back on, and wandered back to the house. She wondered when the messenger would leave for Pemberley, feeling that nervousness begin to seep back into her. Hopefully, soon. Then he would get it sooner, and then, the sooner he would come. She laughed as she realised what her appearance must be right now – her sunbonnet was half on, half off, her hair was a bird's nest, her dress was damp. She was dishevelled. She would have to tidy herself up after breakfast; the family wouldn't care, but from now on, she would have to be more careful. It occurred to her then that until he came, she would be living in constant fear. She hoped he would be quick to respond.

She came up to the main door of the house, meaning to go immediately to the breakfast room, opened it, and froze.

Mr Darcy stood by the pile of letters, deep in thought. She saw her letter in his hand, and thought she was going to faint, just as he looked up and saw her. He stiffened suddenly, and Elizabeth closed her eyes as she felt her head swim. He was beside her in a second, holding her up. "I think you need to sit down, Cousin." He led her to a chair.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stood back and regarded her cautiously. She didn't dare look at him, her heart racing. All she could think was, 'I wish I could tidy my hair!' Just as she could sense his mouth opening to say something, and as she tensed herself ready to listen, Georgiana came into the foyer. "Oh, there you are, Elizabeth!" she said cheerfully.

Elizabeth turned to Georgiana in relief. It felt awkward to speak. "I am sorry I am so late; I went for a walk and lost track of time."

"We thought it must have been that," laughed Georgiana. "You had better go in and have something to eat, you must be famished. And then I need your help with something."

"Actually, I think I must have lost my appetite. I will help you now."

"Oh, good. Sorry to tear her away from you, William."

Elizabeth almost smiled, it was so incongruent an idea with actuality. Darcy mumbled something, and strode off into the breakfast room. Elizabeth took a deep breath and followed Georgiana.

"Isn't it nice to see William!" beamed her companion. "It was so kind of him to come. I asked him to, you know, several days ago, because there were a few things we need to discuss about the wedding, and I didn't want to be fobbed off with a letter, and so I asked him to come in such a way that he couldn't get out of it. Poor thing! He is so good to me. He must be very busy because I think he really didn't want to come, although he is too polite to show it. I think he will be glad now that he is here."

Elizabeth made a non-committal answer, trying not to blush. "What do you need help with, Georgiana?"

"Oh, I need you to help me go through these lists of people and fill in their names on invitations. Jane said you can do proper calligraphy, is that right? Yes, so can I, so Aunt Cecilia suggested we do it, rather than a hired person. Is that fine with you?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Lizzy, you're such a great help!"

Elizabeth had no idea what to do. It looked as if she was to be caught here all morning writing invitations, while Mr Darcy was at large somewhere in the house. She made her way through each invitation, writing each name slowly and carefully while Georgiana chattered away beside her, all the while wondering how she could somehow see Mr Darcy alone, and, if she managed it, what on earth she was going to say. Nothing amazing presented itself; she began to despair.

It was just as she was writing Lady Catherine de Bourgh's name that she pricked up her ears at something Georgiana was saying. "I'm so happy, Lizzy," she said fondly. "Do you remember that discussion we had about Thomas? It was that evening that I first realised how much I love Thomas." She giggled. "I can't believe we'll be married in less than a month!"

"No, I don't remember. What discussion was that?" asked Elizabeth, with a small smile. Georgiana had not left the topic of Thomas for the last hour.

"It was when that horrible column came out, about William and Thomas. We were in the music room, I remember. I was so upset that _that woman _had said such nasty things about Thomas being a snob and I told you, and you said that I shouldn't worry about it."

Elizabeth's forehead wrinkled involuntarily. "About Thomas?"

"Yes, but I said that even if he did behave like that sometimes – which he doesn't! – no one had the right to say anything about it anyway. I was so angry about it! I remember I went to my room after you got your headache and I suddenly realised--"

Georgiana's voice floated off into oblivion as Elizabeth experienced the most blinding revelation of her life. If Georgiana had been talking about Thomas, she had therefore not been talking about Darcy, and she had not been saying Darcy had illegitimate children, and Darcy deserved nothing of what she had suspected of him! Her heart pounded; she winced. "Oh!"

"What is it, Lizzy?" asked Georgiana, instantly concerned.

"N-nothing, Georgiana… listen, I am going to have to go… I've forgotten something… I am sorry!"

"No, no, there's no need to apologise," began Georgiana, but Elizabeth was already out of the door.

She pounded along the passageway and down the stairs, feeling thoroughly foolish and hysterical, and overcome by a nervous kind of elation. She ran into Thomas in the entrance way, who almost toppled over. "What's the hurry?" he asked her with a grin.

"Where is Darcy?" she said, trying not to shout, and to appear calm.

Thomas shrugged. "I don't know. Last time I saw him he was at the stables. Good luck." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and hurried outside, around the house, and into the stables.


	20. Chapter Twenty

4

Chapter Twenty

Darcy stood by Jetty, stroking her glossy black nose, murmuring to her. Elizabeth checked her run as she saw him, and paused for a moment, gathering her senses to her, watching him, until he turned slowly around, as if he had known she was there from the moment she stepped inside. "You wanted me?"

Elizabeth couldn't think what to say. "Yes. I – I hadn't known you were coming today."

"Er, Georgiana asked me," he said. "How are you?"

She thought. "I'm well… Cousin, I am sorry how we parted."

He gave her a pained smile. "So am I. Am I right to presume this means you would like to be friends again?" He sounded bitter.

Elizabeth was thrown off by this. "Oh… well, yes, I suppose so."

"We will be friends then – nothing more, don't worry."

"Cousin…"

"No, Elizabeth, I don't think we need to discuss this any farther!" He turned back to Jetty. "You have a beautiful horse."

"Cousin, please!"

He refused to listen. "Thomas told me your parents gave her to you only a few weeks ago?"

Elizabeth was angry now. "William – I am in love with you, you stupid man!"

He calmly lowered his hand from Jetty, and turned to face her, a questioning look on his face. "Do you mean that?"

She blushed. "I didn't mean… you're not stupid, I am, but... what I mean is, yes, I love you. So much! And I wondered if perhaps you would consider marrying me?" She looked up at him anxiously.

He was smiling, a warm look in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you improper little wretch."

She grinned impulsively. "I know, very improper. Will you?"

He looked at her sideways. "Why the change of heart?"

She blushed. "I had hoped you wouldn't ask that. Can I tell you later?"

He grinned. "I think it will have to wait, because right now I would like to…" She was seized into his arms without warning and found herself being kissed. When she got over the initial shock, she responded in earnest until he broke away to look at her again, holding her tight in the circle of his arms. "Yes, darling Elizabeth. I would like to marry you very much indeed."

The feeling of relief Elizabeth experienced was so profound that she laid her head on his shoulder and burst into the tears that had to be released by pent-up emotions. He couldn't help smiling, but he stroked her hair gently and patiently. "What's the matter, Elizabeth?"

"I almost lost you," she sobbed. "I'm so happy!"

He pushed up her chin, still smiling, and looked at her so fondly she felt faint again. "I love you." He gave her a light kiss on the lips. "Come with me, sit down. Tell me why you almost lost me."

She allowed herself to be led over to a hay bale and sat down next to him. "I really don't know how to tell you," she whispered, smiling at him. "I will look so foolish. You might be offended."

"I promise I won't be," he replied, kissing her again. "I'm too happy."

She smiled. "Oh well, then. I will try to explain. Did you read that horrid gossip column _that woman_ wrote, the time she talked about you and Thomas?"

"No, I didn't, but I heard about it," he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her into his shoulder. "I must confess I was more interested in the part where she said we were inevitably going to marry than the illegitimate children part. You didn't _believe_ her, did you?"

"No, no, not at first!" she exclaimed.

"Not at first? How ominous."

"Yes, well, this is the embarrassing part. Georgiana started talking about it; she was extremely upset about it. She… she was talking about Thomas, and I thought she was talking about you, and she said that even if you were like that sometimes, that woman had no right to talk about you like that, and that she thought most men did it."

He inhaled slowly. "I see."

"That was the night you came back. I didn't even think to consider that she was talking about Thomas. I was very unhappy. I couldn't tell anyone, because Jane became engaged that night – I didn't want to ruin her happiness – and I thought that nobody cared that you had illegitimate children."

He kissed her. "I am sorry, Elizabeth."

"It is not at all your fault!"

"I am sorry that you were so unhappy."

She didn't answer for a moment, being occupied with kissing him again. She giggled. "What was I saying?"

"Something about being unhappy," he said with a grin, squeezing her hand.

"Oh yes. Well, this lasted right up to when you proposed. I hated that, do you know? I knew it was coming and I tried to stop it and I only wanted to run into your arms, but I couldn't. I was so unhappy to make you sad."

"I've forgotten all about it already, I promise you."

She smiled. "I'm delighted to hear it. Well, you left, and I was still unhappy, and then I had a conversation with Thomas. He said that there were some people who shouldn't be kept apart by certain things, and it made me think that maybe I should marry you even if you had done such horrible things. I agonised about it for a long time, and then I decided that I wanted to marry you no matter what. Even if you would be unfaithful to me. Are you shocked? I feel very immoral now."

"You would have married me no matter what?" he whispered in her ear. "I love you. But you must never think I will be unfaithful to you, Elizabeth. There has not been anyone before you, and there will be no one after you."

She felt like she would cry again, overcome by the tenderness of his voice. "Thank you."

He kissed her hand. "What happened next?"

"I wrote you the letter. What did you think when you read it? You have no idea how much effort I put into it."

"I did not know what to think," he said. "Before I had thought about it for more than a few seconds, you appeared in the doorway."

"Yes," she moaned, "looking like a scarecrow."

"I thought you looked more beautiful than ever," he said seriously. "After you left with Georgiana, I sat down for a while and thought. I came to the conclusion that you must have decided that you wanted to be friends again but not lovers and that you wanted me to act as if nothing had happened."

She gave him a spontaneous little kiss on the nose. "I would _never_ be so cruel!"

"Don't forget, you had already broken my heart. But what happened next?"

"Georgiana made me write name after name on the wedding invitations, and she chattered away while I pretended to listen, but really I was musing on what I could do, how I could approach you. And then I heard Georgiana say something that sounded more interesting. In short, she said that the conversation we had had was actually about Thomas. I was so astonished and _so_ happy, I jumped up immediately and ran off to find you. You know the rest."

"I do indeed," he said, drawing her in to his shoulder again. "And see? I'm not in the least offended."

"You are so good to me," she said, her voice sounding suspiciously like a sob. "And I never thanked you properly for that _beautiful_ necklace, and for coming to find me and rescuing me from that horrible man when I ran away. And for giving me your handkerchief when we dined at Mr Bingley's that time, and for…"

"Stop right now, Elizabeth," Darcy said firmly. "I love you too much to hear that from you."

"I want to thank you!" she protested tearily.

"Tell me you love me and you'll marry me."

"William, I love you and I will marry you."

"Then, my love, there is no need to thank me."

Lord Matlock gave a rather nervous Darcy his wholehearted permission to marry Elizabeth, as did Rosalind. Jane, Georgiana and Lady Matlock were both ecstatic; Lady Matlock shed numerous tears at the happy conclusion of the romance she had seen unfolding before her. Richard clapped Darcy on the back and kissed Elizabeth's cheek, but as the conversation got more and more feminine, he muttered something along the lines of 'too many weddings', and slipped out. He was seen carrying a fishing rod towards the river a few minutes later.

When Elizabeth went to her bedchamber that evening, she couldn't sleep. She lay in bed smiling, thinking about William and how he had smiled and how he had kissed her. And then she thought about Mr and Mrs Bennet, and smiled some more. She missed them still. She imagined what their reactions would have been; how surprised and serious Mr Bennet would have been until she had told him that she really did love William, and then he would have kissed her on the forehead and been very happy; how Mrs Bennet would have been so flustered and embarrassed and confused as to how to behave around William, feeding him too much and being overly polite, but rejoicing in her daughter's luck and secretly calculating all the money Elizabeth could expect from the match. She laughed. What would Mary, Kitty and Lydia think when they heard? She would be glad to see them again at the weddings.

Elizabeth fell asleep with the comfortable feeling that she was the luckiest person in the world.

Elizabeth was married to Darcy on an autumn morning, a month after Jane and Georgiana's weddings. She couldn't stop smiling the entire day, and even Darcy scarcely lost the smile; in any event, the satisfied, fond look in his eyes every time he looked at Elizabeth was never absent. The happy couple left the church and went immediately to Pemberley, which Elizabeth had visited several times before her wedding. They didn't even argue for a whole three weeks, and even then, it was a tame event; they enjoyed it so much that they ended up kissing each other in the height of their anger. Two years after they married, Elizabeth had a baby girl whose name was Vivian, and after her, she had three more children – Fitzwilliam, Edward and Rose. Lady Catherine de Bourgh never quite forgave Elizabeth for stealing Darcy from her own daughter, but in the main, the Darcys were always on excellent terms with all their extended family, especially the Fitzwilliams.

_If you liked this story (even if you didn't), come and check out some original fiction and poetry at an e-zine myself and some other writers have created: www. halfwaydownthestairs. net We've put a lot of work into it and had a lot of fun, so it would be great to get any comments on it, as well as on this piece of fanfiction. We also accept outside submissions for our next publication._

_See you there!_


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